Suspect Covers
by Yeto
Summary: When Mick is forced to go undercover with Gina at an exclusive Florida resort for rich socialites, they discover the world of designer clothing and luxury vacations, all the while trying to lure an unsub out. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to my second CMSB fic! Unlike the first, this is a casefic (as case as I can get without being bored) and will carry on until it's done. Multichapter. Inspired by that commercial for, I think Target, with the song and the people in matching colored clothes and decor everywhere. Yeah you know the one (I hope!). Plus undercover fics are always good stuff. Please leave a review if you read, I love hearing what people think about my work. Criticism is welcome, flamers will be laughed at (you can try and be a hater but where's that gonna get you?).  
>Also brought on by my rewatching SB episodes on my DVR. Holy cow One Shot Kill is a mass of MickGina tease-flirting. Beth is right, kiss already (then carry on to what will come next, ahem). Anyone looking for chemistry in the series, look no further than these two.  
>Thank heavens the awful flirting from The Fight has been redirected off Emily onto a more fitting target.<p>

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. If I did I'd be one lucky duck.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean, 'undercover'?" one very disgruntled Mick Rawson snapped, jerking his head back around to stare at a shrugging Cooper.<p>

"We're not getting anywhere on this case. Fickler ordered an undercover operation to lure this guy out. Done deal, it's happening," the lead agent explained, looking rather indifferent to the situation.

"I thought I told you, I don't do undercover missions," the Brit's eyes narrowed dangerously as he tried to think up more reasons why he should get out of this.

"Apparently, you're more convincing as a rich douchebag than Prophet or Coop could be. It shocked me too," Beth deadpanned, fighting hard to keep a straight face.

"Well that's bloody wonderful to know. Maybe they should go find some FBI agents who are trained for undercover, I'm a bit rusty on pretending to be an idiotic rich American," he protested once again, turning his glare to Beth, who simply shrugged innocently.

"Come on man, don't tell me you're scared of spending a couple days at a luxury hotel, relaxing with an overpriced fruity drink, staring at rich dudes' girlfriends in bikinis," Prophet put in, causing Beth to laugh under her breath.

Mick rolled his eyes and maintained he didn't want to do it.

"Sorry man, not up for negotiation. You're in. Gina, you're quiet, how you feeling about this?" Cooper turned to the silent blonde, watching as Beth and Prophet eagerly changed mockery targets.

"I suppose it's obvious why I have to be the dumb blonde girlfriend. Even if you dyed Beth's hair, she'd never fit the role," she sighed, not looking overly pleased with the arrangement either.

"That's true. Beth is absolutely not the sort of girl I'd look believable with," Mick put in, happy to have someone else be the focus of attention again.

"You're right, I don't look like you found me on a street corner, nobody would ever believe we were involved," the brunette shot back, causing Gina to protest, stating she didn't look a bit like a cheap hooker.

Mick opened his mouth to contribute further, which was likely a bad idea on his part, but fortunately he was spared the humiliation of whatever he was going to say by Cooper interjecting, stating that things were final and he couldn't get them changed.

"Your names are Mick Luxor and Gina Arlington. The FBI is providing you with a luxury car rental service and funds to purchase a more fitting wardrobe. I guess you're supposed to buy rich people clothes so you look like socialites. Maybe we can get you a man purse, Mick, you'll look real classy then," Prophet explained, before snickering with Beth at the astonished look on the Brit's face.

"What in the world do I need a bloody man purse for? I thought I was straight," he blurted out, getting less pleased with this arrangement by the minute.

"I've been waiting to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you," Beth smirked, the smile on her face wide.

"Bloody…" Mick began before Coop interrupted him, once again, to prevent him from saying something stupid.

"You have today to get ready, tomorrow you arrive at your hotel. Make yourselves noticeable, we want our unsub to target you, not the other guests. And play it safe, it's hard to find good superegos these days," he lightly punched Mick in the arm and handed him the folder containing the relevant information and FBI credit cards.

Cooper walked out of the room, followed swiftly by Beth and Prophet, to work on the case from another angle, leaving Mick and Gina to stare at the folder.

"This might not be so bad, you know, just you and me, at a luxury hotel on the pristine beach of Florida's coast, I'm sure there's a lovely little cove far enough away from everyone else where we can cuddle up real close and nobody will see," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at the blonde profiler, who simply looked at him to let him know it wasn't likely to happen.

"Oh come on, what stunning, female agent wouldn't love a couple days alone with the FBI's most handsome, rugged bachelor?" whined Mick, attempting to pout.

"We're going to lure an unsub to attack us, not give Penelope more explicit videos to store on her computer system," she huffed, hands crossed over her chest in obvious defiance of him.

"I'm pretty sure she could just Photoshop a porno of us if she really wanted," he pointed out, earning an unimpressed glance from the blonde, so he tried again, "You're going to have to pretend to be crazy for me, you know. I'm the rich guy with the money, and rich guys with money and hot, blonde girlfriends want one thing."

"I don't know why you were complaining, this is a very natural role for you. You would've done well as a rich jerk with your ego."

"Self-esteem. Self-esteem!"

"Self-esteem, ego, unwarranted delusions of grandeur, it's all the same. But, if you're nice, maybe we'll just have to show some public displays of affection, to convince the unsub," she winked, and walked out after the rest of the team.

Mick simply watched her retreating figure before turning to the envelope again. He pulled out an unlimited credit card and a list of high-end fashion designers.

"I wonder how many sell lingerie."

* * *

><p>Mick Rawson stood in front of the Orlando Chanel boutique with an unlimited credit card in his wallet and his mouth hanging open.<p>

He gazed on in amazement at the quantity of expensive purses visible through the front window, and briefly wondered why he had driven several hours, alone, to buy clothes for this cursed undercover mission.

However, he was not a failure, nor a man who wasted his time, so he strode inside with a determined aura, aiming to buy as many summery, resort-appropriate articles of stuff as he could.

A stunning, young Asian woman approached him happily, waving in greeting and asking what he was looking for on such a lovely day.

He attempted to casually sneak a peek at the list of resort-suitable lines on the FBI's data sheet before replying he sought everything and anything from the Cruise 2011 collection. Hopefully this would take a few minutes and he'd be on to the next designer on his list, Dolce and Gabbana.

"You're in such luck, we have simply everything you could ever want! And it's such a lovely collection, too! There's towels, and beach bags, and sunglasses, and purses, and jeans, and dresses, and skirts, and tops, oh and don't forget the lovely jewelry. We have so many wonderful spring-colored accessories," the saleswoman cheerfully recited, eyes gleaming as she took him by the hand to lead him upstairs to look at the clothing.

"Oh," he squeaked out, mentally slapping himself for sounding like an idiot. The unsub could be prowling the store, for all he knew, he had to keep appearances as a rich businessman up at all times.

"My name is Michele, don't you just love these soft prints we have? Oh, they are so lovely! Are you just shopping for yourself?" she babbled on, lightly fingering several dresses hanging up before moving to the men's section.

"Um, uh, no, I'm going on a vacation with my, uh, girlfriend, yeah, and we need a proper wardrobe for it, keeping up with the latest trends and all," he managed to fumble out, scolding himself for being so unprepared.

"How darling! Is your girlfriend coming to meet you, or are you just picking things for her? What's her size, we can start pulling things for her, oh, we can pull matching clothes for the both of you, won't that be adorable?" Michele gushed, reaching excitedly for a chiffon shirt with colorful, abstract swirls. She grabbed a pair of white jeans as well and held them up.

"She'd look nice in that, yeah," he nodded in approval, watching as her smile twisted into one of confusion.

"Oh, this isn't the women's collection, this is for you!" she corrected, pointing to a runway photograph of the outfit on the wall. Mick's mouth dropped as he stared blankly at the poster, trying to understand why any man would wear a pastel print chiffon shirt with white jeans.

"Do you want to see it with one of the matching dresses? Is she coming or not, and what's her size?" Michele hurriedly asked, rushing over to the woman's section to find the dress.

"No she's not coming, uh, she's a, uh, size, what's the small ones?" he stuttered, trying hard to remember the size he'd seen on one of Gina's spare shirts on a case.

"In American sizing, there's 0-4, or just plain extra small," she cheerfully informed him, reaching to pull the proper dress.

"Size 2! Yeah that's it, that's what she is. I think. Here let me bring up her Facebook on my phone, maybe you can tell better," he reached to pull his phone out and load the internet app on it, excitedly showing Michele a photo of him and Gina.

"Oh you're ADORABLE together! She's definitely a 2, here, look at how sweet this dress is and it matches the shirt, you could be so cute!" she squealed, holding the matching summer dress next to the shirt and pants.

Mick still wasn't convinced he'd look like a heterosexual man wearing the outfit, but he couldn't be bothered to try and talk her out of it, looking at the mass of pastel prints on the walls.

Michele pulled several other girly shirts and light-washed jeans for Mick before moving back to the women's section to pull clothes for Gina. She tossed Mick's outfits into his arms and he nearly fell over from the weight. While she was busy sorting through the outfits for the right sizes, he shuffled the clothes in his hands to find the price tags.

Mick's mouth dropped once again at the sight of the price of just one shirt. He was about to protest and say he really couldn't get all of these, until he remembered he was supposed to be a rich man with no limits, and that the FBI credit card would just keep on giving.

A particularly short, brown denim miniskirt silenced him for good, and as Michele turned around to see if he approved, he simply smirked, thinking that perhaps this would come with some nice perks after all.

She pulled the matching orange jacket and tan blouse to the skirt, pointing to a photo showing it with a slew of matching jewelry. He nodded his approval, and she told him to start trying on his clothes while she finished pulling things for Gina.

Mick paused after he'd taken his shirt off, staring at the colorful chiffon before him. If he put this shirt on, and liked it, he'd never be able to face Prophet and Beth again, especially if they ever found out about the clothes. It was to catch a serial killer, so he pulled the shirt on and began buttoning it up.

Unable to turn and look into the mirror until he had the white jeans on, he forced himself to take a glance. And then he couldn't stop staring. He had to admit, he was simply irresistible in the outfit. Gina would have a tough time keeping the girls at the resort away from him wearing something as smashing as this. For a second, he questioned whether he was slowly morphing into a woman inside the store, but the dashing fit of the jeans over his rear silenced his concerns.

Michele knocked rapidly on the door, almost bouncing up and down outside. She squealed once again when she saw Mick, who by now was entirely won over by the girly prints.

"You look beyond fabulous, my word! Didn't I tell you these were simply perfect? Oh and there's so much more! I've got the girls downstairs rounding up the gladiator sandals and the boots and all the cruise collection jewelry and oh, simply everything we have! I'd imagine you need swimsuits so I was wondering if this was to your liking?" she gushed, holding up a skimpy peach bikini.

Mick smiled in triumph at the tiny triangles of fabric, looking at a similar silver bikini set behind the peach one.

"They're absolutely perfect."

* * *

><p>The FBI sniper walked out of the Chanel boutique fifty minutes later with seven bags crammed full of clothes, towels, and fabulous accessories, if he did say so himself. He'd changed into the white cardigan Michele had shown him and a lighter-colored pair of jeans, to avoid the increasing heat outdoors, before proceeding onward to Dolce and Gabbana.<p>

Now that he knew what he was in the market to buy, he was ready. Michele had told him all sorts of trivial fashion details while they looked at the entire store's selection, and he felt like an expert by this point, strutting around in his form-fitting Chanel.

Something caught his eye on the way over. He'd been planning to go to Neiman Marcus later, but the six inch heels in the window drew him in. Almost as if in a trance, he walked inside and straight to the shoe counter, asking them to show him everything they had by Christian Louboutin.

Gina would likely hate him for forcing her to wear neck-breaking stilettos, but that was a small price to pay to see her in the most flawless pair of deadly foot-wear weaponry he'd ever seen. As he quickly told the salesman Gina's usual shoe size, he heard a nagging voice inside his head saying he was turning into a shoe fetishist.

An acceptable consequence.

Walking out with two bags stuffed with Louboutin boxes, and struggling to carry nine full shopping bags around, he set out again to Dolce and Gabbana. He had some lovely dresses in mind at Valentino after that.

Mick Rawson was turning into a shopping addict.

* * *

><p>When the Brit swaggered back in to the police station they were working out of, a while after the sun had gone down, Cooper looked up with an irritated expression.<p>

"Where have you been, all day? This mission starts tomorrow, Mick, I need your head in the game," he warned, folding his arms.

"What do you think I was doing, mate? We have to look the part, I was ensuring every minute detail was taken care of. You wouldn't _believe_ the ways you can accessorize a dress wrong! It's so trashy to just start tossing things on, especially if they look so _cheap_ and common. That's why it took me so long, I had to make sure every last cent was spent buying something just _perfectly_ suited," he blurted out, talking so fast everyone had to take a second to understand what he was saying.

"Are you alright man…" Prophet warily asked, nervously eying the colorful, printed shirt Mick still wore and the sassy way he had taken up standing, arm draped over one of the Gucci bags.

"Why _wouldn't_ I be alright? Chanel had _everything_, it was so easy, I never realized the thrill of the hunt for the perfect outfit rich people have. This unsub will believe we're the real deal and come running to kill us. Absolutely _nothing_ can go wrong when you have the summer season's newest looks," Mick nearly giggled, dragging a finger over a Chanel bag's handle in a rather seductive way.

"Have fun convincing everyone he's straight," Beth muttered to Gina, and turned to quickly exit the room, Prophet and a bewildered Cooper following her.

"What happened to him?" the brunette woman blurted, as soon as the door had shut.

"This rich idiot cover story has gone to his head. He was practically checking himself out in that shirt. Maybe he thinks he's a girl," Prophet replied, nervously glancing over his shoulder as Mick swept the bags away from Gina, telling her she couldn't see until tomorrow.

"Someone remind me to never give him money again," Cooper shook his head, watching as Mick pulled a single outfit out of a bag.

"Oh my God…" Prophet spluttered, while Cooper's eyes went wide.

"He bought a matching dress? His shirt matches her dress? How… what… maybe he's doing this on purpose, trying to get out of this mission, making us think he's gone insane over clothes," Beth mumbled, watching in horror as Gina's face lit up upon noticing the dress and shirt matched.

"They match on normal days too, though. If one wears blue, so does the other. He probably just stuck with what he felt comfortable wearing," Prophet shrugged, hoping there was a valid explanation for all this.

"If she wears a Playboy bunny costume, he'll wear one too?" Beth deadpanned, not convinced.

"No, he'd go as Heffner," Coop put in, a quick nod of his head to show his confidence in the idea.

"I'd hate to see them at Halloween," sighed Prophet, before slowly heading out the door to return to the hotel for the night.

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><p>WHAT PROPHET JUST SAID IS ENTIRELY TRUE. Watch for it: Mick wears blue, Gina wears blue (Beth does too). Mick wears dark redpurple, Gina wears light red/purple. They match. Plus they have those matching black trenchcoats in Two of a Kind. Take it as you will, it must be a sign.. they're meant to be together. I do wonder if how often they have matching colors was intentional as a shipping hint or due to limited wardrobe budget (whatever company makes the clothes donated certain color sets) or someone thought it'd be funny to make them look like they go shopping together.

Leave a review if you could, thanks so much for reading, stay tuned for the next chapter as soon as I write it!


	2. I should start naming these

And we're back! After last night's episode I felt inspired to write. I also felt inspired to make a quick oneshot involving that nice new desk but I figured I'd update for you all first. Wasn't that just the sweetest episode? Not so much the case but the M/G/P trio and Beth. Aww what an adorable ending. And even the case ended rather well. CBS RENEW THIS SHOW or I'll be sad.

I figured out what song is in the commercial this story is inspired by... Crystal Fighters - Plage. Check it on the tube of yous. Also in case you didn't read Suspect Couches (an unrelated story) or notice from the first chapter, this is Mick/Gina. ALL THE WAY.

Thank you to all who read Chapter 1 and reviewed. Enjoy Chapter 2 and review it as well! SB haters, you don't know what you're missing. The action will pick up next chapter. In the meantime...

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><p>"That has to be the most absurd cover story ever," Gina sighed, head resting on her knuckles as she stared out the window of the Ferrari, watching the Florida landscape pass by.<p>

"I don't see how you almost drowning on a reef and me coming to the rescue on a white horse and saving you from certain death is unrealistic in the slightest," Mick argued, carelessly steering the overpriced convertible down the highway.

"For starters, the horse probably wouldn't want to walk on a coral reef. Second of all, were you wearing white armor too? I absolutely do not need a white knight," she retorted, huffing poignantly to solidify her point.

"Gina LaSalle doesn't need a white knight, but Gina Arlington, gold digger extraordinaire, does."

"If I'm a gold digger how did I afford a trip to scuba dive on a reef?"

"If I knew you were going to be so bloody particular I would have _insisted_ you start making up stories, instead of offering to spare your precious brain the effort."

"Thinking of a realistic scenario is obviously too much effort for your brain… will you watch the road!" she yelled as a teenager on a motorcycle swerved past the car, flipping them off.

"Top notch kid right there," he rolled his eyes, reclining in the seat to continue driving without disruption.

"Alright, look, we met in Central Park. You were on a stroll with business partners, I was having a picnic with my sister while we were visiting our grandmother, you noticed me, had your assistant come and find me, he invited me to a black tie affair you were attending, and we hit it off," Gina rambled on, as Mick glanced over at her multiple times in boredom.

"Typical, boring, predictable, and gives the unsub no reason to think either of us is a scumbag worthy of being forced to have sex while we're stabbed to death."

"Okay, as if you white knighting me gives the unsub any reason to slowly disembowel you."

"You were dating a McDonalds cashier, your high school sweetheart, he was saving to buy you a ring, I saw you on the streets with your friends one night as I was riding in my limo, and did what any sensible, straight, unattached man who recently lost his wife would do. Stole you right away with the promise of my millions," he smirked, draping an arm around her shoulders as she yelled at him to keep both hands on the wheel, since he didn't know the roads.

"I would never be dating a McDonalds cashier… okay, Gina Arlington probably wouldn't be either if she'd drop him the second some dumb Brit shows up rolling in his millions."

"Nordstrom shoe salesman then. He got you discounted luxury shoes, a season after they went out of style. I got you them before they hit the shelves," he almost laughed giddily, thinking of the thousands of dollars' worth of shoes and assorted designer articles of clothing sitting in the Ferrari's trunk.

"That settles it. Gina _Arlington_ dumped her shoe clerk boyfriend for Mick _Luxor_, a dumb rich jerkoff. _I_ would never dump my boyfriend for you," she firmly stated, narrowing her eyes as she glared at his smirking expression.

"Of course you wouldn't, love. You can't dump me for me," he grinned cockily as she simply rolled her eyes and pointed out they'd arrive. When she motioned to open her own door, he pointed out that wasn't how rich people acted. Chivalry was alive and well in the circle of busybody, wealthy Americans, who would be glad to accuse someone else's man of being ungentlemanly for not opening her door.

Exhaling loudly, Gina waited for her partner to saunter over to her door and open it slowly, extending his hand to help her out. Under her breath she muttered she wasn't a coma patient, to which he merely smiled graciously and brought her hand to his lips to gently kiss it.

At her startled expression, he simply pointed out it was what rich gentlemen did.

* * *

><p>After hearing the strangled screech of one Gina LaSalle over the microphone hidden behind the bed in their luxury suit, Beth had immediately phoned the blonde, fearing the unsub had already attacked them.<p>

The phone had answered, however Gina appeared to be rather occupied screaming at Mick, leaving Beth and Prophet to listen on speaker to the ensuing events, mouths gaped open in shock.

"How am I supposed to walk in these? They're six inch heels!" she was yelling, waving around a strappy pair of fuchsia Louboutins.

"I thought every pretty girl could walk in heels like those. Adds to their sex appeal," Mick chuckled, reclining on the bed and reading one of the luxury magazines left in the room, compliments of the hotel, and turning the magazine so Gina could see the picture, pointed to a thin blonde modeling lingerie and asked, "Hey, do you think she'd date rich-me?"

A loud smacking sound, a garbled cry of pain mixed with shock from Mick, and a firm 'no' from Gina followed. Beth and Prophet could only shake their heads, knowing this was entirely unlikely to be a successful mission.

"That wasn't a serious question anyway. Rich-me already has a blonde bombshell coming back to his room every night. Now we just have to work on getting regular-me and regular-you to the same status," he'd retorted, waggling his eyebrows at her blank expression.

"You'd better start praying because _that_ will take a miracle. You should try being more of a gentleman, and less egotistical and self-absorbed, like Prophet," she shot back, pulling out the short cocktail Valentino dress he'd got to match the shoes and shooting him another look.

Beth poked Prophet excitedly in the arm as they tried not to laugh and give away their position.

"You can't even say that with a straight face. There's no way you'd date an old man like Prophet over fresh, young meat like me. Besides, it's high self-esteem," he'd laughed, leaning over the side of the bed to sort through a bag and fling a bracelet at her.

"Is that really solid gold?" she narrowed her eyes, inspecting the trinket carefully.

"Mick Rawson does not get fake gold," he deadpanned back, reclining on the bed once again.

"He also doesn't get laid," Gina winked, turning around to sit down on the other bed. That was when she realized there was no other bed, and what she'd thought was a bed when they walked in was merely a chair. Her eyes went wide before taking on a dangerous glint.

"Why is there only one bed? And why is it a twin?" she asked, trying hard not to throw more shoes at him.

By this point, Beth and Prophet had pulled Penelope into the call, and all three were dearly wishing the microphone had been a camera, to watch the ensuing carnage.

"Come on, as if a rich idiot and his hot girlfriend are going to get a room with anything else. I thought you wanted a convincing cover, _darling_," he simpered out, before hopping up and pulling the floral Chanel shirt off.

"What are you taking your shirt off in the middle of the room for? No, stop, no, keep your pants zipped, what _are_ you doing?" Gina was yelling as the now-topless Mick reached to further bare himself.

That was when Penelope squeaked loudly, unable to keep silent anymore. Both undercover agents' heads shot around to look at the phone on the nightstand.

"Penelope Garcia! Are you spying on us?" Gina demanded, picking up the phone at long last.

"Oh, honey, if I wanted to spy on that lovely British hunk, you would _never_ know I was doing so," the redhead cheerfully teased, glad she was so quick at replying after her years at the BAU.

"Hey Gina give me the phone, if she wants a piece of this I'll send her something to dream about," Mick grinned, grabbing for the phone as he once again tried to unzip his white jeans.

"No! You are absolutely not sending nudes to Penelope! You should be sending them to me if you want the unsub to believe this," Gina scolded, jumping back to avoid giving him the phone. Penelope went silent, and even Beth and Prophet were unable to butt in, allowing the blonde plenty of time to consider what she'd just implied.

"Well now. If you wanted a little glimpse of not-so-little-Mick, you should have just said so, love. _That_ can certainly be arranged," his smirk grew even further, and a distinctive zipping sound was heard over the phone, followed by a feminine gasp.

"Mick put your clothes back on! Stop it, I don't care if you're trying to be convincing, this is-" she was nervously protesting before he closed in on her, gently knocking her knees so she fell backwards into the chair.

Before she could shut her mouth he dropped onto her, pressing his lips firmly against hers as his tongue wormed its way into her mouth.

After two attempts to push him off, her hands simply stopped trying and clasped at his chest instead, skimming over it while he dragged his fingers up and down her sides.

Muffled moans ensued, leaving Beth and Prophet to stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the phone, unable to look away, as if they had been hypnotized by it. Penelope was already pondering all the Photoshop material that would result from this mission, twirling her pen as she listened.

After several minutes of intense making out, Mick finally pulled away and forcefully hung up the phone.

"Had to make sure you'd react right. For when we make out in public. Need to be convincing after all, it simply wouldn't do to have you squirming in discomfort while we're supposed to be sensually engaged in the other's physical presence," he explained, eyebrows high on his forehead in amusement at her reaction.

"If you don't get changed and stop offering to send pictures of you naked to girls we're never going to make it out into public to get the unsub's attention," she pointed out, standing up shakily and walking to gather the dress and shoes.

"Well love, if you want to stay in tonight and not bother with whoever's out there, I am _perfectly_ fine with that."

"Case to solve. People get stabbed to death. You know, the reason why we're here? I'm sure if you had the option to come to a luxury resort in Florida you'd take whoever you found in a bar the previous night and leave boring old me back home."

"There is no one Mick Rawson would rather have with him, sharing his room, wearing the bloody scandalous undergarments he bought, sunbathing in a bikini while he watches, than the charming Gina LaSalle."

The blonde was silenced by his tender tone, turning to glance back at him as she fingered the soft, Valentino dress he'd chosen for their first night of socializing with the rich crowd.

"I can send you those pictures you wanted at any time, love," he grinned, naughty expression on his face, and she had to smile.

"How about you wait until we're back? We have an unsub to catch the attention of. He's been going from resort to resort, trapping wealthy men with blonde girlfriends in their room, forcing them to have sex, and stabbing them to death. All we have to do is let him know we're here."

"Exactly why I selected our outfits. Beth may have stayed up all night mulling over my love for women after seeing that shirt but it will lure the unsub in. She stays up all night mulling over me on a regular basis, nothing new," he scoffed, pulling up a dashing, deep purple suit from a bag.

"I'm pretty sure Beth doesn't 'mull' over you for even a second."

"Rubbish, you know she's done it once."

"If she has, it's not something she talks to me about."

"But you talk to her about when you 'mull' over me, don't you?"

She simply stared at him, pursing her lips and folding her arms. After a minute or so of looking at her unwavering expression, he put his hands up in defeat.

"I 'mull' over you every night."

"MICK!"

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><p>Review please? Next chapter coming asap. And remember to watch Suspect Behavior live so it gets renewed!<p> 


	3. In Which Gina Gets Wet

YAY SB has its own section now! To celebrate our presently-tiny but hopefully soon-to-grow section, here's another chapter. Look there's crises and drama and stuff. I'm trying to keep this rather 'case'y but honestly I get bored with the case part I like the interactions better.. my idea of 'case' is from Scooby Doo and you go "looking for clues" which REALLY means you're ditching Scooby and going to do a little somethin else. I promise there's actual content here.

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own it.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, clicked, or put this story on alerts! You guys motivate me to update semi-regularly and not take weeks between each chapter. Enjoy, and as always please leave a review with your thoughts. Entirely open to criticism.

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><p>"Isn't this nice? You, me, a bunch of rich people, and an unsub on the prowl. We never got to do fun things back in Special Forces. Just shot at stuff. And that <em>really<em> doesn't compare to the company of such a stunning lady," Mick whispered into the blonde profiler's ear, glancing out at the crowd in front of them to see if anyone suspicious was roaming about, looking for another couple to kill.

"It does fit the typical sniper profile. You see women and your targets as conquests but it's fairly reasonable you'd prefer one over the other," she shot back, smiling and attempting to stand up. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back down next to him, annoyed look on his face.

"Jesus Gina we're not all freaks. You make us sound like such… sadists," he hissed back, firmly holding her in place next to him.

"It suits you better than 'masochist' does."

"So now we're talking about sexual desires, eh love? Well, it just so happens I can think of one pretty little blonde I wouldn't mind trying some things out with."

"And I can think of one overconfident Brit who doesn't have a chance."

"You are the one who edges closer to me every time a seemingly unattached broad checks me out."

"Hallucinations aren't very safe for a sniper to be having."

He was about to retort when a scantily-clad young brunette walked up to them and sat across from the pair.

"Oh why _hello_, I just couldn't _help_ but notice _you_ from across the way, sitting pretty with your sister, and I thought you might like some _spicier_ company," she simpered, nearly clawing her way across the table to lean in closer to Mick.

He had to smirk when he saw Gina's eyes go wide and felt her body tense. The blonde rose slightly from her seat to gain more height over the brunette and locked her in a possessive glare.

"I'm not his sister. I doubt you could think of anything _spicier_ to talk about than the fetishes we just were. Go find your own," she nearly growled, moving still closer to Mick, who simply smiled at the scene before him.

The brunette rolled her eyes and stood up in a huff, muttering a fair few insults about Gina under her breath.

"Love I never knew you were so…" she sat down in his lap instead of the chair she had been in, "territorial."

"Gold diggers don't like sharing their gold. We're trying to be 'realistic' and get the unsub to come after us. He's not going to believe we're… together if I let every hooker in here chat you up."

"So now she's a hooker, eh? My, my, Gina, you never learned to share, did you?" he grinned, leaning forward to claim her lips in a kiss.

She kissed back immediately, entirely receptive to his actions. Mick was starting to change his mind on undercover operations as her tongue pressed against his, her body starting to grind slowly against him. He wondered what he'd ever done to earn this moment as she ran her hands through his hair, tugging roughly.

When she finally pulled away from his mouth, slowly dragging her lips apart from his, he leaned in to whisper that he quite liked things _rough_. She smiled innocently and turned slightly to face the room.

As several businessmen sat down to chat with him about investment opportunities she continued to caress his arms and chest, acting every bit the dedicated, money-hungry girlfriend she was supposed to be.

A couple more hours into the night, all spent securely in his lap at the table, and Gina could feel the Brit squirm every so often, trying to readjust his position to mask the growing erection he was sporting. She felt oddly elated at the confirmation he was attracted to her, which she'd long suspected after his continual flirting.

After two rather drunk men had tried to convince him to buy their unicorn-making factory, he'd suggested they head out of the cocktail lounge, which was rapidly degrading into a massive assortment of drunken couples grinding, and scope out the resort's property, in the off chance of finding where the unsub might be hiding out if he wasn't a guest.

They slipped out and down the hall, exiting the main building to examine the outdoor pool and hot tub complex and beachfront.

"Everyone's inside the hotel. We could… take a dip. If you're feeling adventurous," he winked, looking at the deserted pool, the still water reflecting the dim lighting emerging from the hotel.

"You had better not be suggesting we go skinny dipping. We're FBI agents, not actual socialites," she hissed under her breath, careful not to let the unsub hear.

"Be boring. I'm sure that nice brunette we met a while back would love to go swimming, late at night, all alone, nothing on, my wallet sitting on the side of the pool…"

"Funny. Come on, we have more ground to cover," she rolled her eyes, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind her.

As she opened the gate that led to the hotel's private beach, he paused behind her and glanced behind them, scanning the bushes behind the pool area's fencing with his trained eye.

"Do you get the feeling we're being watched?" he asked her in a hushed tone, pressing closer so their voices wouldn't have far to travel.

"Not really. It's probably just the darkness playing tricks on you," she whispered back, looking around. The pool remained still and nothing flickered, so she proceeded on to the sand.

They walked a ways down the beach, noting any odd indentations in the tropical plants that lined the sand. Nothing struck either as overly suspicious or unusual, so they soon turned around, intending to return to their hotel.

Gina was walking past the pool when Mick tugged on her arm to get her to stop and insisted someone else was out there. He watched the chairs, heavily shadowed by the fading light from the hotel, for any sign of movement, and jumped in shock when two of them slid forward.

The blonde profiler stepped back towards him as he moved to jump in front of her, but a pair of arms shot behind him and shoved Gina, who stumbled backwards on her stilettos and tumbled into the pool with an enormous splash.

Mick immediately went into attack mode and reached out to grab whoever was there, finding an arm and yanking hard to pull them to the ground. A girly screech wailed from the woman as he shoved her down, planting a foot on her back to hold her town. He quickly recognized her as the brunette from inside, only to be slapped in the face by another woman.

Another brunette was screaming for help now, clawing at him angrily to force him off the first girl. He put up his hands in defense before getting drenched by a rush of water as Gina lunged out of the pool and tackled the girl, water flying off her.

The brunette went down hard and yelled in pain, Mick watching as the blonde landed several punches on her before stiffly standing back up. Several hotel security guards rushed out the door, tasers drawn and ready to strike.

Mick quickly held his hands up in surrender as Gina leaned against him for support, breathing hard. The brunette he had his foot on demanded he release her, and he lightened the pressure enough she could crawl out from under.

"This dumb _slut_ shoved me into the pool!" Gina snarled, eying the girl who was now standing back up.

"Um, after you tried to beat us up! Abusive girlfriend alert," the second brunette scoffed, on her feet again as well.

"Bloody liar, you were hiding behind those chairs and came flying out. Your friend here was too jealous I wouldn't show her a good time earlier, guess she doesn't take a hint well, eh?" Mick retorted, again moving to block his partner from the other two girls, who looked ready to strike a second time. The security guards looked at each other, unsure who to believe.

"Let's take this inside, mates," the Brit forcefully suggested, moving forward back to the hotel. The brunettes angrily trailed behind, the guards between the two pairs.

Once inside, and safely out of range of the unsub, he whispered to one of the guards they were FBI and undercover to catch the hotel killer roaming around. The guards briefly conferred before agreeing to drop the incident, warning the brunettes to avoid the couple from now on.

The one who had approached Mick in the lounge gave Gina a death glare, flipping her off as the girls stormed away to find another man to hook up with.

The Brit took one look at the soaked profiler, who was trying in vain to regain her composure after the incident, and scooped her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she cried out, struggling at first in his grasp but quickly settling into it.

"I figured you'd had enough walking in those fetish heels, especially now that they're drenched. Bloody shame, that dress probably will shrink, it was bloody dry-clean only and those dumb broads just had to ruin it," he huffed, sniffing disdainfully at the small trail of droplets the dress was leaving.

"You bought me _fetish_ heels?"

"No sense in lying, love. I saw them in the window of Neiman Marcus and for the first time in my life, felt so… _aroused_... just looking at them and imagining you, six inches taller, pouting at me for making you wear them…" he trailed off, lost in thought, nearly walking past their room before she punched him in the arm to get him to stop.

She heard a lone set of footsteps walking down a hallway and quickly leaned up to kiss him again, in the instance the unsub was lurking, as he swaggered through the door, closing it behind him.

He set her down on the side of the bathtub and reached to turn the faucet on. She looked at him questioningly, attempting to pry the strappy heels off her feet.

"You look like you could use a nice, long bath. Shared with yours truly, of _course_," he grinned, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, once again.

"Mick…"


	4. In Which They Argue Over Balls

Thank you everyone for the kind words about this story, and thanks for reading/reviewing! I'm back with another chapter, I had half of it done but after reviewer Lizicia confirmed my thoughts it was really moving too fast I redid it. So welcome to Chapter Four!

And who else was counting matching outfits in last night's episode? I got 5, maybe more. It'd be one thing if Mick and Gina had identical jackets but wore them in different scenes... but I mean they just keep wearing the same jackets and colors in _every dang costume change_. One really has to wonder. And that chick he was on the phone with? Gina didn't seem concerned.

As always, reviews are loved, and thank you to all my readers for clicking and giving the story a look!

* * *

><p>"Look, Mick, I appreciate this but the unsub can't see us. We shouldn't take a <em>bubble bath<em> together. We're still agents. In the end, this is just an undercover operation and once it's over, we'll go back to hunting other unsubs and we won't be these socialites anymore. You'd make things so awkward every day, always hinting at it…" she trailed off, watching the British agent nod softly before turning and walking out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Gina hadn't been expecting him to just walk away and accept it. He hadn't even bothered to say something, anything, flirt a little and tell her she'd give in soon enough. She was tempted to open the door and ask what was wrong, but as she reached for the handle he called out that he was just going to bed and to be quiet when she got out.

Several minutes later, a rather confused blonde profiler sunk below the surface of the tub, pondering over what to do about her fake boyfriend. Sure, they could probably have casual sex just for fun and it wouldn't mean a thing to him, and she liked to think it wouldn't mean a thing to her, but the more she thought about her serial dater coworker, the more she wondered what exactly would make him settle down.

* * *

><p>"Good <em>morning<em>, sweetheart!"

Mick Rawson's overly cheerful voice rang out, rousing Gina from her sleep as rays of sunlight filtered in through the window and the scent of bacon mixed with syrup hit her nostrils.

Unsurprisingly, the male profiler was shirtless, covered only by his light wash jeans, while he set the small table in the corner of the room.

"Come on, love, time to get up. We have an unsub to attract."

She hoisted herself off the bed, glancing down as the covers fell off her and revealed the rather skimpy nightgown he'd bought her. A quick peak at his face informed her he was clearly happy with his purchase.

After sauntering over to the table in the near-see through garment, she sat across from him, watching as he shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the fact she hadn't bothered to change. Several raised eyes and awkward silences later, he finally spoke.

"I figure since you paid the pool a little visit last night you wouldn't want to swim today. So we can play tennis. Easy enough, eh?"

"Not tackle football? There's no contact in tennis," she teased.

"I wouldn't want you to get shoved to the ground. Especially by a man who isn't me."

"How considerate. I played softball in high school, I'll be terrible at tennis."

"I played the _actual_ football. The good one, not the rubbish you Americans have. We can be bad together."

The way he was smiling, not smirking, made Gina decide to give Penelope a call and have the tech ring the Brit and talk to him about just what sort of woman would put a halt to his one night stands. He'd apparently left several heartbroken women across the Atlantic, but they hadn't been enough to keep him there.

"We'll stand out enough the unsub should notice us. What if he isn't even at this hotel?"

"That's his problem. It fits the profile and Beth's geographic pattern to be here. He doesn't know we're onto him, he has no reason to change his methodology yet."

"If some other couple winds up dead I'm blaming you."

"I'll blame you for not being convincing enough. Nobody's going to believe we're together if you look so bloody distant all the time and only touch me when another girl takes notice of this fine specimen of masculinity."

"Shift the blame to me, that's right. Way to be evasive. Typical of a man who fears any sort of commitment."

"Excuse me, love, but I'm not afraid of commitment. I just haven't gotten attached to any women who have had the honor of a night with me."

"Or they were gone before your hung over mess woke up."

His silence lasted for enough moments that she smiled triumphantly; causing him to stand up angrily and inform her he was going to take a shower. A long one.

Gina took the chance to pull her phone out and call Penelope, who was likely to be bored at her desk at the current moment.

"Hello my lovely doll Miss Gina. How is it being holed up with a prime hunk of male?" the tech cheerfully greeted.

"Alright, he's acting sort of funny. He gets serious sometimes, about things he usually jokes about. I was wondering if you could call him later."

"But of course! That accent is to die for. I don't know why you all don't put him on the line more often.  
>What are Mr. Handsome and I talking about?"<p>

"Ask him if he's thinking about settling down, and what sort of woman he'd settle down with."

"OH, princess, you are absolutely not telling me you think _Mick_ is looking to end his glorious days of bachelorhood?"

"Most bachelors eventually get bored of the lifestyle and look to settle down. Men want the lasting companionship. That's why they remarry faster after a spouse's death."

"Talk about girls we shall. I'll call you back once hotcakes and I chat."

"Thanks P."

Gina sat back and sighed.

* * *

><p>"That was totally <em>in<em>," Mick yelled, throwing his racquet down on the court and storming over the net, which was reluctant to bend to his arm and caused him to stumble rather ungracefully.

"You need your eyes checked, _love_, that was out by a mile," she retorted, pointing to the light, chalky spot where the ball had bounced after his last return, clearly beyond the line.

"You let it go! What do you think you're doing?" he huffed, crossing his arms as he stared at the dot in anger.

"Duh, winning," she rolled her eyes and went to fetch the ball, which had rolled across the empty court behind theirs to the door.

"I don't trust you with that ball, you're putting magnets in it or something," he scowled, rushing behind her to pick up the ball before she could. She stopped short of where he had intended to, sending him crashing into her and knocking both to the ground.

When she didn't immediately struggle to get out from under him, he tentatively ground his hips against her rear, checking her reaction. A muffled grunt wormed its way out of her throat, much to her dismay. She would let him have a little fun, to convince the unsub, but she didn't want Mick knowing how enjoyable she found their physical interactions.

He noticed the sound, however, and wiggled down an inch, grinding again with more firmness. Gina tensed, going rigid under him, and let out a strangled cry. Mick stopped, jerking up slightly and she shot out from under him, standing up and dusting herself off. She mumbled something about going to buy Italian sodas and darted off.

Mick stood off and watched her go, frowning. She was obviously interested in him, and had been for long since the mission, but she insisted on limiting things to heavy flirting and light, occasional physical contact.

He heard his phone ringing from his bag and darted over to answer, seeing a picture of Penelope smiling up at him from the screen.

"Hello, Penelope?"

"Mick my lovely nugget of British finery. How are you doing with the beautiful blonde?"

"Just bloody dandy. What's up?"

"I think you could tell everyone trying to hide their amusement at you having a stable girlfriend for this. It got me thinking, what _does_ a ruggedly handsome man like you think about? You know, like finding a nice girl to settle down with."

"Are you asking me if I want a girlfriend? Penelope I thought you had a boyfriend…"

"Truly unfortunate. If I didn't, we'd be in business. But alas, the woes of monogamy keep us apart."

"Bloody shame."

"Well, how are things looking for you? Is there a beautiful woman with a sparkly diamond on her finger in your near future?"

"I wouldn't mind. But she'd have to be something amazing."

"Tell me about amazing. Maybe I'll be nice and Photoshop her for you."

"She has to be blonde. And white, like me. And hmm, about a size 2. Relatively tall. Drop dead gorgeous. But she can't be a pushover. And she can't be loose. I don't want to date a male version of myself. She has to be smart. Under 30, without a doubt. Classy. Same sense of style as me. She needs to be a bit of a tease. Self-confident. Oh, and her name absolutely has to start with a 'G'. No exceptions."

Penelope was silent for a moment, the sound of a pen scribbling replacing her voice, and then, "Why a 'G'?"

"I like how it sounds. To answer your next question, yes doll, the infallible FBI bachelor could be nearing the end of his trail of broken hearts. What a _world_, ain't it?"

"Mick Rawson you are _such_ a tease. If only I was single. I'd lose those pounds for you big boy. Have a nice vacation, hotness."

"Bye love. Might want to get on those pounds, in case that nerd ever dumps you."

"Oh Mick, you are too much for my blood pressure."

The tech hung up, and Mick took the silence to reflect on what exactly he'd told her. He just hoped she didn't blab to Beth, who would certainly never shut up about it.

Meanwhile, halfway back to the tennis courts, Gina's phone began ringing. She paused, sitting on a bench to answer it.

"Gina you will absolutely never _believe_ what your hunky partner and I just talked about!" Penelope squealed into the phone, nearly blowing the blonde's eardrum.

"What? Does he have a girlfriend?"

"Not exactly. He told me what he wants in a girl, what sort of woman would make him settle down. You will totally not believe this. No way. I barely believe it!"

"Penelope, tell me!"

"He described you! I was wary, suspicious at first, I thought maybe he was just into blondes, but then he got specific. He kept giving more details… and then he said her name has to start with 'G'! There is _so_ no way he was talking about anyone but you."

"You're kidding."

"Oh babycakes I am totally not kidding. His voice was totally serious. Like serious-funny Mick, not joking-funny Mick. You had better get on that stud before an actual gold digger snatches him right up. Beware of any girls named Georgette."

"Pen…"

"No ifs, ands or buts, Gina, you need to get _on_ him. I'll even trade you brains and make the moves for you. Honey that man is _fit_. And that accent…"

"Maybe Kevin can practice his British for you."

"Sweetie there is simply no substitute for an authentic accent. Stay safe dear, another team is calling me in to look at gross pictures of dead things, so I will talk to you after you get with my favorite Brit."

"Bye Penelope, and thanks for talking to him."

"My pleasure," and with that, the tech hung up, leaving Gina alone with two melting Italian sodas and a fair bit to think about. She stood up to walk back to Mick, who was slumped against the tennis court's net in the distance.

"Hello gorgeous," a suave, masculine voice rang in her ear, causing her to jump to the side. A dark-haired man, presumably of European origin based on his facial structure, was leaning over her. And he was much too close for her liking.

"Taken," she curtly replied, picking up her pace. If she could get close enough to the courts, Mick would probably notice and come to rescue her if the guy hadn't got the hint before.

"By me? Nothing I didn't know," he tried again, inching still closer to her. She would let the Brit come dangerously close, but not a complete stranger, especially when she was supposed to be in a relationship.

"No, not by you, leave me alone," she demanded, almost running now and thankfully in vocal range of the court. Mick turned around and, seeing the other man nearly draped over her, sprinted off the court. He ran up and shoved the unwanted suitor in the chest, almost knocking him over.

"Hey moron, she's not bloody available. How about you _back off_ and I won't make your face uglier than it is?" he shouted, loud enough to attract a significant amount of attention. Heads turned all around them, and if the unsub hadn't noticed them yet, he surely would now.

"How dare you…" the Italian started, puffing out his chest, before Mick cut him off.

"I told you, don't come near my girlfriend again. Now sod off," he yelled, wrapping an arm possessively around Gina and leading her back to the court, casting dangerous glances behind him at the other man, who slowly retreated.

"Bloody idiot. Why does nobody here respect when someone's off the market?" he scowled, lowering his voice so only she would be able to hear.

Gina wasn't really sure, but she did know being pulled so tightly against him as he territorially chased off a rival, yelling so everyone close could hear, had felt absolutely too enjoyable to ignore.

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><p>Read, review, and long live spin-offs!<p> 


	5. In Which Someone Gets Their Hair Yanked

And we're back for another chapter! CBS has picked up two pilots (one drama) and passed another on to the CW but there's no renew/cancel news from them yet so in the incredibly nerve-wracking and stressful time between right now and when we know I've taken to stress-drinking water (WATER!) and writing. What a world.

As usual, thank you to all my readers and reviewers. You motivate me to update frequently which is good because otherwise I'll just drop the ball on updating. Glad you all like the story! Please review, I love hearing your thoughts on the story and its pacing (especially after this chapter).

**Disclaimer**: I have not heard any Seeking: Writers for CMSB requests from ABC Studios or CBS so alas, I am still just doing this for fun. If only...

Minor spoiler from Strays but it's nothing overly significant.. though it is a very unlikely but convenient plot device!

* * *

><p>As the sparkling rays of early morning sun drew Gina from her slumber, she noted an unusual weight draped across her, and was barely able to turn to look at a still-sleeping Mick, arm wrapped around her and chest propped up on her shoulder. He had woken up before her the previous day, meaning if this was a common habit of his she hadn't noticed.<p>

When she wiggled to get out from under him he began to stir, slowly heaving himself up and blinking his eyes against the sun.

"I didn't know you were a snuggler," she smirked, rolling over to face him as he retreated back to his half of the bed.

"You never bothered to ask, love. I would've shown you a long time ago," he half-grinned back, stretching slowly before standing up.

"I'm sure."

"Someone's sassy at sunrise."

"And _someone_ likes to push his luck."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

* * *

><p>The first thing Gina heard when she emerged from the bathroom, dressed (if she could even call it that) in a revealing silver bikini, was a very loud wolf whistle from her partner. He had a cocky smile on his face as he stared on in delight.<p>

"Bloody brilliant purchase that was. You look _ravishing_, love," Mick simpered, eyes wide as he appraised the outfit.

She rolled her eyes, slipping a pair of Valentino sandals on. When he continued to simply sit and stare, she asked if he could possibly be bothered to accompany her to the beach. Promptly standing and offering her his hand, he led her out of the hotel.

"Now this is the American dream. Best reason to ocean hop," he commented, treading lightly onto the warm sand.

"And what specifically are you talking about?" she asked, giving a sour look to a potbellied old man checking her out.

"Walking down a white sand beach to swim in a warm ocean not polluted with sewage and dead fish, wearing Gucci swimming trunks, in the company of a stunning blonde."

"You're too kind," she scoffed, again rolling her eyes, but stopping when he abruptly ceased walking.

"You know, we agreed not to profile the team, but you are really good at failing to accept compliments. It's always a comeback or a sarcastic remark," he spat out, frowning while she blankly stared.

"Well, maybe if you ever sounded sincere, people would take your _compliments_ seriously," she retorted after some thought, folding her arms.

"Deflect it on to me, that's right love."

"If we're going to point out obnoxious flaws, let's start with your casual, flirty demeanor. How do you expect compliments to not seem backhanded when you say them to _every_ pretty girl?"

"Fair enough. It's just a thing, from back home. Nobody's bothered by it like you are over there."

"It certainly gets you _things_ over here doesn't it?"

"Information? To solve a case? From some broad I'll hopefully never encounter again? If I were to take a guess, I'd say you sound downright _jealous_."

"More like entirely not amused."

"So you're jealous. That's presh, love. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. Now, we have an unsub to stop and an ocean to splash in, so if you're quite content to accept you're territorial and I'm a tease…" he trailed off, looking for the slight relaxation of her posture that would signify she was in acceptance of the situation before grabbing her arm and dragging her to the sea.

He pulled the towel out of her arms, dropped it in the sand, kicked his flip flops off, and began sprinting with her in tow into the waves, diving under head first, despite her protests. Eventually he surfaced, bringing her back up with him and shaking the water from his head. Gina shoved him back, trying to regain her footing, but he had run in too deep and pushed her in front of him, leaving her to tread water and splutter until he stepped close enough for her to wrap her legs around his hips.

"This moment has taken way too long to happen," Mick grinned, attempting to put on his most suave face.

"Keep dreaming, _love_. Standing in the ocean right off a crowded beach is not one of my secret fantasies," she retorted, smiling to let him know she wasn't getting defensive or snappy.

"I'm sure there's a nice, secluded cove a ways up the beach. We both know socialites don't walk any farther than necessary because nobody can see their designer swimwear if they're out of sight."

"Still not going to happen."

"You're really," he paused to dunk both of them under the surface, swimming farther out, "no fun."

"Mick! At least warn me," she coughed, slapping at his chest before stopping suddenly and leaning in to whisper, "Hey, turn around. There's a man, late forties, grey-brown hair, dark expression, at about ten o'clock staring at us. Don't make it obvious."

And with that she kissed him, closing her eyes to make it look convincing, allowing her hands to roam across his chest. He eagerly kissed back, rotating slowly to take a glance at the man in question. Mick pulled back slightly to confirm he saw the other male and thought he may well be the unsub.

"Better put on a good show for him, eh?" he smirked against her mouth before dragging his hands up her body and under the small triangles of her string bikini. Gina jerked against him, unable to suppress a loud moan as his fingers began exploring her breasts.

She ground her hips against his almost involuntarily, allowing her natural instincts for the situation to dictate her actions to convince the unsub they were together. After several minutes of fervent touching, one of his hands began to trail its way down her body, and she gasped as it tugged at the waistband of her bikini.

Mick's hands shot off her and he pulled away from her lips. She was ready to scream at him to carry on when he spoke, "He's gone. Figured you'd had enough, without, you know, an audience."

All she could do was lower her eyes and nod slightly, detaching her legs from his body after he'd walked closer to the shore so she could stand.

"Creepily staring isn't reasonable cause for arrest, but at least we know who to look for," she commented after a while of easy swimming.

"Yeah, better than hoping he's even at this hotel. Who knows, maybe he was just a horny old man. We should, uh, probably get out. Wouldn't want your lovely skin to prune, would we, _darling_?" he smirked, leading her out of the ocean and onto the beach as she playfully smacked his arm.

Neither noticed the room key had been turned when Mick picked up the towel and wrapped her in it.

* * *

><p>Several hours later found Mick and Gina in more modest clothing, matching lilac Prada shirts and light jeans, strolling down the central walkway of the hotel's outdoor complex. Mick had been chatting around with other businessmen about investment opportunities, while Gina rather reluctantly gossiped with their wives, girlfriends and mistresses about the worst home wreckers at the resort. When she'd gotten bored and pulled him away from his table before another gentleman could sit down, he'd quite willingly agreed it was time for a casual walk.<p>

Gina had been about to suggest they visit the hotel's main restaurant for an early dinner when a woman's voice cried out Mick's name from behind them. Both agents whirled around in surprise.

"Mick! It's so great to see you, been forever doll," the British woman gushed, darting up to him and attempting to hug him.

"Catherine, what a… surprise," he stuttered, backing up slightly in shock. Gina's eyes narrowed.

The British girl leaned in close and whispered to Mick she heard he was undercover and was here to offer her services. He simply stared at her, flabbergasted she'd bother to fly across the ocean and try and get in on his mission, without briefing him first. He was about to say as much when suddenly Catherine was no longer in front of him.

Gina grabbed the other woman's hair and yanked, pulling her backwards as the Brit let out a strangled cry of pain.

"Back _off_ my boyfriend you _slut_," the blonde snarled, hoping she'd yelled it loud enough the unsub would hear.

"Excuse me? Bloody who do you think _you_ are? Let go of my hair or I'll have Inter-" Catherine started screeching before a well-timed hand from Mick silenced her. He glared down at her.

"We're _under. Cover._ Don't bloody blow it. I don't know why you're here but I don't need your help and you're jeopardizing this mission," he spat out under his breath so only the two women next to him could hear.

Catherine started to protest before Gina screamed at her to leave the blonde's boyfriend alone. An unsympathetic glare from Mick sent the British woman storming off.

Several minutes after she'd disappeared from sight, Gina dragged Mick out of the circle of curious socialites who were failing to hide their interest in the fight and a few yards into the palm tree grove, out of hearing range of anyone else. It was obvious to him she was still fuming.

"This is what I was talking about! You turn on the charm to some moron and she thinks she can just waltz in to wherever you are and you'll hook up with her. What is _wrong_ with everyone here, they have absolutely no respect for boundaries!" the blonde ranted, angrily pacing about.

"I didn't ask her to come. She was always annoying when I worked with her at Interpol, why do you think I used _Beth's_ phone, not mine? As if I want her calling me all the time," he scowled, hoping if he could keep her anger focused on the British girl she would calm down sooner than if she got mad at him.

"Because she's a skank! S-K-A-N-K. Who does she think she is just parading up to you when you're undercover and acting like she's somebody important? What if your name hadn't been Mick? I can't believe the nerve of her. If she comes back around…" Gina trailed off, exhaling loudly and trying to calm herself.

"Look darling I don't want her here either. If I see her again I'll tell her to leave and go back to Europe. We have nothing to discuss. Now, how about we go get something to eat and forget she stopped by?" he suggested, offering his arm, which she quickly took.

* * *

><p>After another unpleasant run-in with the brunette and her friend from the other day, and Catherine coming round again only to throw a fit when Mick told her to get lost, Gina LaSalle was entirely ready to enjoy a relaxing bath once again.<p>

She turned on the water, expecting the Brit to try and hop in with her, but he merely stood in the main room, looking entirely bored. It probably wasn't easy for him to have to turn down attractive woman after attractive woman in favor of maintaining appearances with a blonde he had to share a bed with but couldn't touch.

He might even be likely to take the next girl to hit on him up on her offer for a good time. If she was honest with herself, it bothered her a lot more than it should that he could easily go screw another woman while she locked him out and did nothing. It wasn't like he would actually do so, Penelope had been quite insistent he was serious about wanting a relationship with her, but playing hard to get with a superego only ended in two ways: after an extended period of time pursuing her, he either got bored of her resistance and left for a more appealing woman, or his courting wore her down and she gave in.

They more than likely had the unsub watching them by this point. He could be sitting outside the bathroom window right now, and it was vital to the mission they be convincing, especially after all the disruptions from other women. Her fists clenched as she thought about Catherine and the persistent brunette, and Gina had to admit Mick was likely right she was highly territorial.

He gave her plenty of reasons to be so protective: he was attractive, he was a flirt, they weren't _actually_ sleeping with each other and he was probably bored with that.

And after their little ocean romp, she'd been so terribly annoyed he had stopped. His hand had only started moving to where she really wanted it and he pulled away, trying to be courteous. She could be courteous, too.

Mick wasn't paying attention to her at the moment, so she quickly unzipped the deep blue evening dress she had slipped into earlier in the night.

"Hey Mick, you look like you could use a nice, long bath," she called out, waiting for him to turn around and see her in only lingerie and five inch heels.

"…Gina!"

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><p>Enjoy my dear readers! Review if you could (:<p> 


	6. In Which CBS Sucks Eggs

A AA AAA AA A so mad at CBS right now. SO MAD. But they can't keep me down so here is some HAPPY GO LUCKY FLUFF/HEAVILY-HINTED-AT-SMUT. Enjoy SB fans! Who knows, if enough of CBS' shows tank they may resurrect SB to fill the gap. Let's keep SB alive in fanfics, even if there's no more matching outfits to find next fall. I'll keep writing even if nobody reads.

Thank you to all my fantastic readers and reviewers! I love hearing your thoughts about the story. Hope this chapter meets your expectations.

**Disclaimer**: CBS should sell me the show so I can put it on ABC or something and not get it canceled UGH. CBS doesn't deserve the beauty that is Mick/Gina.

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><p>In retrospect, offering to get into a bubbly, hot bath in a luxurious resort for the top percent of breadwinners with eternal flirt Mick Rawson was, debatably, a very poor idea. Depending on her intended outcome for the evening, and how badly she wanted to piss Catherine and the brunette tramp running around off, it could have been the natural next step and therefore a logical progression of events.<p>

To most people, it would have been a sign she was losing the distinction between Gina LaSalle and Gina Arlington. The former would never have tempted her coworker in, locked the bathroom door, and been content to know he was off in the bedroom moping, watching rich people TV. The latter, a chronic gold digger, would have screwed him in the bathtub the previous night.

However, in the instance the unsub was indeed watching them via video camera or through a window or even through reading their brainwaves or heat signatures (now, she had to admit, she was just getting desperate to justify her decision), the responsible, mission-wise at the least, choice was obviously to stay in character. The responsible decision in pretty much every other sense of the word was to not get involved with the man she worked with, daily.

After all, if she left Mick to fend for himself with a room key and nothing to do for an hour before going to sleep, he might be tempted to go find one of the amorous women roaming about with no regard for relationship status and show _her_ a good time. Or even give Catherine that dinner she insisted he owed her. And if the unsub caught wind of that, suspecting they were not actually dislikeable, wealthy idiots, then he would target someone else. She was pretty sure they stuck out like a sore thumb already, compared to the born-and-raised socialites or built-up entrepreneurs.

No, it would never do to let 'her man' roam around the hotel or sit bored, alone, on their bed. And he was being quite chivalrous, as though he had been raised to be a true gentleman and always put her before himself. There was that promise she'd made, that if he played nice, they could play around, to add credibility to their cover.

Perhaps a couple glasses of overpriced champagne had played a part in her actions as well.

After Mick had recovered from the shock of seeing her before him, half naked and obviously waiting for him to finish disrobing her, he had shot into the room like a bullet, immediately right up in her space.

He'd blinked several times, as if he'd been expecting her to tell him to get lost, that she was just kidding and he'd never stand a chance. She could see him tense up, nervous, and felt so triumphant at finally rendering the FBI's most overconfident bachelor speechless and awkward around a half-naked woman.

Then his trademark lady's man smirk returned as he casually tossed his jacket off, watching carefully as she removed her underwear and slipped into the oversized tub.

When he hadn't joined in after another minute, she raised an eyebrow and asked if he was sure it wasn't his bedtime. That got him rolling his eyes and promptly in the bath with her.

"Now isn't this nice? You, me, the bubbles, thousands of dollars' worth of designer clothes, a large, soft bed with silk sheets, a hotel room all to ourselves… The only thing missing is you snuggling next to me," Mick simpered into her ear, maintaining a slight distance from her.

"I'm not moving. Too comfortable," she mumbled, sinking lower into the foamy bubble layer until he could only see her eyes and hair.

Taking that as her permission, he inched closer until he was pressed against her, side to side. A quick glance from her let him know this wasn't exactly what she called snuggling, so he reached under her to push her up and slid under, letting her rest on top of him.

"You know, love, we superego snipers tend to excel at a variety of things."

"What kind of things?"

"_Things_. That require two people and no clothing and result in a lot of pleasurable feelings for the fortunate woman involved."

"Oh Mick, you can't tell when a girl is faking? Some profiler."

"Girls don't _fake_ with Mick Rawson. They have no ability to when I've slashed their IQs in half."

"I hear boredom does that."

"How about you stop guessing what I'm like in bed and start experiencing, darling? You'll sound more informed."

"We're in a bathtub, not a bed…" she began, before being flipped over as he quickly slid out from under her and rolled over, pinning her against the side of the tub.

"Be a good girl and don't make me beg," he softly whispered, licking his way from the tip of her ear to her throat.

"One chance to prove you're not a dedicated Viagra addict," she moaned as he sucked at her neck, flicking his tongue over the skin.

"One go and you'll never want to get off the ride," Mick smirked, suddenly extremely thankful undercover operations existed.

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><p>Two hours and a tub filled with cold bathwater later found the two profilers writhing on the floor of the bathroom next to the tub after Mick had gotten angry the water was lukewarm and forcibly wormed his way over the edge with the blonde, dropping a foot onto the carpet.<p>

The Brit was still on top and still quite enthusiastically moving, while Gina had been stuck seeing stars for the past twenty minutes.

This had definitely been a poor decision as far as any good, rule-following, boring and therefore sexually frustrated FBI was concerned, but red cell teams didn't have to obey the archaic laws of government land.

As far as Gina was concerned, Mick had been entirely correct, and this meant he was _off_ the market.

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><p>When the blonde woke up, still on the floor of the bathroom, next to the tub, with one Mick Rawson collapsed on top of her, she knew the past night had probably not been one of her shining moments of intelligence. She had wanted to at least talk about something serious before going at it like rabbits. For over two hours.<p>

If Mick thought he'd seen her territorial side before she'd passed out from an extended amount of pleasure, he was sure in for a surprise.

He began stirring above her, evidently already surprised she was indeed naked and under him. His mouth opened and closed several times, but for once, the sniper had nothing to say. It was almost a shame to ruin the moment, but they had to discuss what had happened before he went updating his Facebook status to 'just banged my superhot coworker'.

"Mick I shouldn't even have to say this but, we need to talk…" Gina began, sighing as his face dropped.

"I understand, onetime thing, only for the mission, trying to be convincing, we're clear," he replied sadly, feeling his heart sink. For a couple, all-too-brief hours, he'd thought maybe, just maybe, he would have a shot at something serious, something prolonged. But alas, it was not meant to be, and a bachelor he would remain.

She knew he was attempting to give her an out, let her claim it was a one night stand to get the unsub interested even more, but it wasn't going to work. Unless he lied to Penelope, and _nobody_ lies to Penelope, he was game for something more. And Gina intended to take full advantage of that on a nightly basis.

"Penelope told me what you said. About me. Well, she thinks it was about me. It probably was," she started before he cut her off.

"I _knew_ she'd tell! Bloody knew it."

"I had her ask, I wanted to know. You wouldn't trick Penelope. She'd delete all record you ever existed. I don't want this to have been a mistake. Or a one-off. The only 'mistake' was not talking about this before. So let's… talk."

"I have probably never been so relieved to hear a girl say that."

"You also probably have never heard a girl say it."

"Now, now, love, let's not get sarcastic and ruin such a tender moment," he paused and waited for her small smile to indicate she had no intention of doing so, then continued, "Well, what I told Penelope was the truth. Ball's in your court now, darling."

Gina had to laugh, taking a glance at their state of undress. "Honestly I'm not sure I have much choice. It's a bit awkward to reject you while you're lying on me and we're both naked."

Mick's face fell and he quickly scrambled to push himself off, darting over to grab her a towel. He looked crestfallen as he slumped back down to the floor a few feet away. She looked at the towel and kicked it away.

"For a profiler you're kind of clueless. It's cute," she winked, crawling over to him and pulling the Brit into a kiss.

Needless to say, it took another two hours for them to finally vacate the bathroom floor.

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><p>Mick Rawson assumed he had died and gone to heaven when he woke up not once, but twice, passed out on top of his highly attractive blonde coworker. Though the second time was technically strike three of 'you must be dead', seeing as turning around to view said coworker wearing royal blue lingerie and beckoning him to join her.<p>

And then she'd even said, well, perhaps shown as opposed to verbally expressed, she wanted to enter into a relationship. This was really his lucky day. It was almost enough to change his opinion about undercover operations. He'd always thought they were a bore and so much effort. Then again, he'd usually been stuck with male agents, and they were certainly not as much fun.

Forget Interpol. America's FBI is where the babes are _at_.

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><p>The Brit had just left to find a midmorning snack when Gina's phone began ringing. Answering led to a series of rapid screeches, cheers and squeals from what could only be the BAU's top hacker.<p>

"Gina! I. Heard. It. All. I sat down today and checked the microphone logs to make sure nothing was wrong and it was working and _there you were_ moaning and screaming and tell me all about it!" Penelope blurted out at a breakneck pace. Gina wondered if the redhead could break the world record for spoken words per minute.

"Whoa, easy there P. That mic. was on? Can you uh, delete the recording or something? Important FBI people probably won't have the same reaction you did," the blonde replied, face paling at the thought of a sex recording of her and the Brit leaking across the FBI.

"Oh sweetness, that recording is going nowhere but my _personal_ external hard drive. Now tell me, how was the FBI's hottest _unavailable_ profiler?"

"Well, you heard for yourself. I can't fake sex for two hours. You missed your chance Penelope, he is officially _taken_."

"Honey this is wonderful! That hunk needs some stability, you know, a nice girl to keep him in line. And dollface _you_ could use a hot slice of handsome in your bed every night."

"Thanks for the concern about my sex life, P. Still no luck on identifying the possible unsub we saw in the sea the other day?"

"Alas my dove, your description of his face has produced no results. Before he comes to kill you and your dashing bedfellow, you can at least enjoy the resort."

"Always looking on the bright side. Call if you find anything, hopefully we'll see you soon Penelope."

"Later sweetie, say hi to hotcakes for me."

"Of course."

The tech hung up moments before Mick returned, carrying a tray with sandwiches.

"Miss me too much, love?" he grinned, sitting down next to her on the bed as he set the tray on the nightstand.

"I lived. Penelope called. She heard. The whole thing. But she's going to keep it a secret. No results came up for the unsub, but she said hello."

"Ugh, was hoping we'd be able to identify him instead of waiting for him to strike. It's alright, though, because that means you and I get to spend some more _quality time_ together. And, I think, that is entirely worth having him be a peeping tom for a couple more days."

"Well, _I_ think we should grace the pool with our presence. The unsub might think we've left if we spend all day in here," she winked, standing up and shrugging his floral, button-up Chanel shirt off to change into another bikini.

"My shirt is a good look on you," he commented, finishing up his sandwich and reclining.

"Because it looks like a woman's shirt. Come on, lover-boy, get ready for the pool."

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><p>More anti-CBS-sucking-eggs fun next chapter, including the pool! And perhaps some more catfights. Just imagine CBS execs are the girls getting their weaves yanked. As always, I love your reviews!<p> 


	7. In Which the Pool is Revisited

I'm so glad folks are still interested in SB and we're getting more fics even though CBS sucks beyond all else and canned the show all too early. I'm looking forward to the finale next week. Gosh if it's a cliffhanger...

Thank you everyone for the reviews and positive words! As always, criticism is welcome and I love getting reviews (: Also please include your thoughts on how much longer you want this to be. I sort of lost inspiration a bit but managed to think of two ideas for scenes. The second is in honor of the Preakness today. I was hoping Animal Kingdom could pull a Triple Crown win but my man Shaggleford with the sickest name on the track was too boss. Remember I have a lot of ideas for more fics so even if this one ends there will be MORE. More Mick/Gina. Because I can and it's fabulous.

**Disclaimer: **CBS isn't good enough to have the show. Unfortunately I'm not rich enough to have it either. Alas, a true crisis.

Enjoy all my readers and thanks for reading as always!

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><p>It started out so tranquil. The weather was overcast, loose clouds hovering in the sky, but not blocking the heat. As a result, the pool area was relatively vacant when the two profilers arrived. They spent an hour or so swimming laps and just floating, talking to the people sitting in the lounge chairs, waiting for the sun to come out.<p>

Soon the sun began breaking, and a rowdy group of Californians dove into the pool. The agents climbed out and decided to socialize with the bored, wealthy folk sitting about.

Gina sat down with a couple girls she had met earlier who weren't entirely clueless, stupid or man-hungry.

"Hey Gina how _are you_?" the bubbliest of the three other girls screeched in her obnoxiously high pitched voice. The blonde almost cringed at the other woman's vocal chords, but that would be considered rude, so she did her best to refrain.

"Oh I'm fine, thanks for asking Ruby. Anything new in your life?" Gina replied, attempting to be polite.

"You will never ever guess so I'll just tell you. Ruby's getting _more_ implants! Her fiancé doesn't think her latest ones are big enough so she's going in to get DDD ones this time," Chantal gushed, a rather loud-mouthed black woman with a horrendously fake blonde weave. Gina blankly stared for a couple seconds before remembering she was supposed to reply.

"How… wonderful?" she stammered, wondering what exactly was wrong with these women. From past conversations, she knew Ruby had been in for at least fifteen cosmetic surgeries. None of which she actually needed. The redhead now looked like a Barbie: made entirely of plastic.

"Oh isn't it? I can't wait! It feels so funny when they stick the needles in to numb you!" Ruby giggled, as the profiler's head began to spin wondering how anyone could enjoy being stabbed with a needle.

"You know who _else_ is getting bigger tits? That total _slut_ Sophie. The one who was grinding on Veronica's father after he had that heart attack or whatever in the bar the other night. Can you even _believe_ that hoe?" the third girl, black-haired Susan, spat. All the women shook their heads in disgust.

"Oh, or what about that girl who you said kept trying to hook up with your boyfriend? How filthy! I found out, though, that her name is _Margie_, what a _name_! Her husband divorced her, well, she filed for the divorce, but, he technically broke it off, because he left her. For a _man_! She couldn't even keep him straight. What a total _loser_," Chantal laughed, turning to Gina to inform her about the troublesome brunette.

"Hey, you know, there was that other girl. The one whose hair you yanked out. She was _way_ too close to your man, and all whispering in his ear. My cousin overheard her outside the hotel calling the _police_ on you! But they laughed her off or something. Whatever they told her, she couldn't believe it and kept calling _you_ unprofessional! Can you believe her? Seriously, what _nerve_!" Susan quickly tossed in, scowling haughtily at the thought of Catherine. The blonde agent paled, hoping that the unsub hadn't overheard the conversation and caught on that they were undercover, but Susan didn't appear to have any clue so it wasn't likely.

"Gina how _did_ you get ahold of him anyway? I mean, he's totally British, with that _hot_ accent, but you don't have one. He's also _totally sexy_. If I didn't have a fiancé and you weren't so nice I would totally go for him," Ruby prattled, seemingly oblivious to what she was actually saying. It took Gina a couple moments to formulate a response, trying hard to remember the cover story they had discussed.

"Well, he got ahold of me. He saw me walking with some friends and whisked me away. His wife had died in a car crash and he was lonely. I was dating someone else but, what can I say, Mick was worth it," she cheerily replied once she'd finally recalled the story. The other girls all squealed a mournful cry when she said his wife died before gushing that was so sweet he was lonely without her and they were glad he had someone as nice as her.

Gina sat there wondering why they thought golddigging made a girl 'nice', but then again, in the world of the socialites, it may have been the least of their evils. She certainly didn't want to stay at the hotel long enough to find out just what did make a mean girl mean.

The Californians had vacated the pool, and a new group of socialites walked out, Margie and her brunette friend included.

"Chicken, pool, now. Everyone," someone yelled out, and the pool area came alive with people scrambling to grab partners.

After the sixth girl came up to him and asked to be with him, Mick quickly took off running from his chair to the other side of the pool and grabbed Gina's hand.

"C'mon, we're leaving. These girls are nuts," he whispered, attempting to drag her out the gate and onto the beach, but the brunette friend walked into their path with a tall, black man by her side.

"Uh, he said _everyone_, that includes _you two_. So we can crush you," the girl sneered, pushing Mick backwards towards the pool. He reluctantly followed her direction, taking the blonde with him, who seemed less than pleased.

"Ok, most of these girls probably have eating disorders. I doubt they stay thin by working out like you do. I'm a sniper, we're skilled at holding a position. I can stay up but you have to shove them over," the Brit commanded, discussing strategy with his fellow profiler.

"How about we just lose in the first round and walk away?" she suggested hopefully.

"Do you want to lose in the first round and be laughed at?"

The look on her face was a pretty definitive answer.

Gina climbed onto Mick's shoulders, wrapping her legs around his torso.

"You know, it's a shame you're facing that way, love. I'd like this a whole lot better if you just swung around," he remarked, smirking.

"You'd probably pass out from the shock. Just don't fall over."

Soon enough, she was taking vicious swings at other girls, knocking them into the pool. Several of the girls got the idea into their heads that Gina was not to be messed with, and began avoiding her corner of the pool. Mick was panting fairly heavily under her, attempting to breathe despite the waves from the pool constantly splashing into his face, and she was glad he could rest momentarily.

The pool was rather quickly vacated, sans for the two profilers, Margie, and her boyfriend of the day. Gina's eyes narrowed and Mick sighed, preparing for a rather ugly fight.

"Oi, get over here mate, so I can roast you," the other man called in a strong Australian accent.

"An Aussie? How's it feel inside a kangaroo you twat?" Mick yelled back, rolling his eyes. Figures it'd be some idiot from Australia. Their accents were just cheap knockoffs of the noble, Welsh dialect anyway.

"Wouldn't know, but maybe you can tell me, mate, is a sheep's vagina tighter or looser than your girlfriend's?" the Aussie roared back, and the crowd laughed, the women watching discussing which accent was better.

"Can't tell you that but I can guess a blue whale's probably swallowed less than that broad," the Brit smirked as the crowd laughed harder. Margie screamed something inaudible and tugged on her partner's hair to get him to walk forward.

Mick tried to run, though it was difficult in the water, and ducked to the side as they got close. Gina reached out and grabbed Margie's long hair, trapping it in a death grip as Mick kept moving. The brunette attempted to turn to look at what they were doing, but she started screaming bloody murder when she finally did.

Her wig was lying in the pool, having been dropped by the blonde when it fully detached, who was incredibly shocked. Margie shrieked expletives, grasping at her head in anguish and started to cry.

The pool went silent. They stared at the bald woman, who shoved her man's face underwater, hopped off him and ran back into the hotel, sobbing wildly the whole time.

"What the f…" Mick began, but the shouts and cheers of the crowd drowned him out. Gina simply smiled and nodded her head.

Unnoticed by everyone in the ensuing celebration was a man slightly outside the gates, within the shelter of the jungle, watching silently.

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><p>"Well this is nice. Waves, horses, you, me, a creep out to kill us. We should do this more often," Mick remarked, staring over at the blonde who was framed by the ocean's soft waves. It was sunset, and they were riding horses along the beach.<p>

"Uh, only if you're going to pay. Pretty sure the FBI isn't going to give us $2300 a night rooms just for fun anytime soon," she retorted quietly. Though the beach was empty, there was always the chance he was hiding in the jungle and could overhear.

"That's why you win Employee of the Year awards. They give you free vacations like this. Coop told me about it when he first asked me to join the team. He didn't tell me you actually have to be a citizen to win the awards. Bloody American laws."

"Aw, what a shame. I guess I'll just have to win for you."

"When you give your little acceptance speech you can dedicate it to your amazingly wonderful and attractive boyfriend."

"I'm sure that will go over well with the FBI when they find out just who this dreamy man is."

"Details, love. Let's ride out deeper, into the surf," he suggested, aiming his horse into the gentle waves. Gina followed, content to be in his company.

They rode out until the water was up to the horses' shoulders and kept riding north, the sun still partially above the land to the west.

Mick turned his head to look up the beach and determine how much farther they should go, and nearly zoned out staring, trying to estimate the distance. He reasoned if he had his rifle on him with a proper scope he could shoot the lone tree extending beyond the jungle's boundary several hundred yards down.

Then he heard the shocked cry and a splash.

He whipped his head back around, eyes widening as he saw Gina's horse skittishly prancing, eyes wide and mouth open, attempting to evacuate the area it had been standing, but no blonde profiler atop it. The Brit began screaming her name, furiously scanning the darkening water for her.

Ready to climb off his horse and begin physically hunting for her in the sea, he lifted a leg to jump off before freezing as she resurfaced. He could only stare in complete shock at the sight before him.

Gina was clutching the back fin of a dolphin, which was cheerfully jumping out of the water, gently enough she could hold on. Her face was mortified by the situation and she clearly wanted to disembark from her finned ride, but she seemed too disoriented by being knocked off a horse by a dolphin to react to the jumps.

"Gina!" he yelled again, reaching a hand out to help her as the dolphin circled around again and swam closer. It slowed down and she weakly unclasped the dorsal fin, floating for a few moments before Mick was able to grab hold of her and drag her torso out of the water.

Her horse was still nervously pacing, but it had returned close to his, reluctant to wade deeper into the water. The dolphin cheekily whistled at him before swimming off to join several dolphins jumping in the distance.

He helped haul her onto the back of her horse and grabbed ahold of its reins, leading the horse back to shore. When she stopped spluttering for breath, he asked if she was alright, to which she replied she was fine, all things considered.

Mick figured it was time to evacuate the ocean.

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><p>"I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have suggested we go out. Into the water, that is. What if the dolphin had been vicious? I'm so sorry," he kept saying, apologizing profusely as she sunk lower into the bubbles of the bathtub.<p>

"The odds of a dolphin being that close to land and choosing to knock me off the horse so he could swim with me are incredibly unlikely. It wasn't your fault," she told him, getting slightly annoyed with his constant apologies.

"Still, you could have been rendered unconscious or hurt or something else. This is so new. I don't want to end suddenly in a tragic marine mammal-related incident."

"Well, luckily for you, I have no plans of this ending any time soon," she replied, reaching an arm up to pull him into a kiss.

Which soon led to other things.

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><p>Your thoughts always loved.<p> 


	8. In Which CBS Sucks More Eggs

Aaaand we're back! First of all LOL at the finale that is a crime against television to end with a scene like that. BUT I totally saw it coming. I'd have been disappointed if the opportunity for such a great cliffhanger was wasted by ending the plot in one episode... sans the fact CBS decided to be a bunch of egg-sucking chumps and cancel the show. Hopefully we'll get resolution of some sort on CM. Which is looking up for next season with the return of my favorite ladies JJ and Emily! And goodbye Seaver, your character was a horrid addition (though my condolences to Rachel Nichols for being out of a job, I'd imagine working with the actors of CM is a wonderful job). Also I'd like to clarify that my opinion on Australians/Brits is not represented by the insults tossed about in the previous chapter. Just all for fun. I mean it wouldn't be very angering if they'd complemented each others' heritage, would it? My BFF is Australian and she laughed so no offense meant.

**Disclaimer**: CBS doesn't realize what they've got (a great show). Unfortunately I don't got no money, nor am I an executive at ABC who could get the show picked up.

Chapter 8, featuring some Beth and Prophet, the unsub himself, and only a slight bit of our star characters. Mixing it up! Things will return to your usual dosage of solid M/G next chapter. Additionally, I see another 2 or 3 chapters for this story, but FEAR NOT, I'll return with more oneshots and maybe another chapter fic. We'll see how many more chapters I get out of this concept. Though you guys may have to wait a bit as I have FINALS coming up. Yuck.

As always, reviews are loved. I enjoy hearing your thoughts and criticisms will make these stories better. Thank you to my lovely readers and subscribers for reading and I hope you enjoy Chapter 8!

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><p>It was five days in, and the case was relatively stagnant. At the end of a grueling, taxing, agonizingly slow day of sitting around listening to the microphone implanted in Mick and Gina's hotel room, Beth and Prophet were utterly and entirely bored out of their minds.<p>

"You know what, I'm out of here. It has been _five days_ of listening to these two idiots talk about a bunch of trivial nonsense and nothing remotely concerning has happened to them," Beth spat out suddenly, standing up. Her chair shot backwards as she slammed her hands onto the table, moving to walk away.

"We have thirty minutes. Take it easy, man. The unsub usually takes a few days to strike, that's what _you_ profiled, remember? Give it another day. He'll come for them," Prophet calmly replied, reclining in his chair as he watched Beth shift impatiently back and forth, obviously torn between storming out and completing her job properly.

"Thirty minutes of hearing nothing but a load of garbage about My Little Ponies. They're _profiling_ cartoon characters from a show aimed at selling pink, plastic ponies with brushable hair. And you don't see this as a waste of our lives?" she huffed, reluctantly pulling her chair back towards her and sitting back down, near the edge, as if she was ready to stand up again should Mick make another comment about Rainbow Dash's obviously repressed sexuality.

"Let's talk about you. You just went on a rant about My Little Ponies. _Ponies_. What woman hates ponies? You profile like a sadist, a twisted and bitter mind ready to snap at a moment's notice, never making emotional attachments, always prepared to flee from an uncomfortable situation. It's a pink _pony_, man," Prophet chuckled, staring at Beth with a mix of amusement and seriousness in his eyes.

"Excuse me? I profile like a _sadist_ because I don't have walls full of cheap, decaying plastic with kindergarten-level 'art' painted onto their butts and ratty synthetic hair sticking out of their heads?"

"Pink and purple ponies are the poster child of young, female innocence. Haven't you ever heard Lady Gaga? Unicorns have magical powers, they're different from Earth Ponies, and Pegasus, but they can't help it. They were born that way. It's okay to have been born different, man."

"Are you implying I'm either a lesbian or suffering from mental problems because I don't talk about ponies all day?"

"Your mileage may vary."

"Maybe we should talk about _you_. Your calm, collected, zen personality is a fraud. You go home alone every time we go to a bar. Your detached persona attracts the creepy women who think you're on some sort of higher plane of existence and you refuse to ever touch them. Regardless of how you play it, Mick always steals your spotlight. You can't even get the nice, serious, intelligent girls. Gina fawns over him like she's never heard a British accent before, but you? Friend zoned."

"My chill lifestyle is a fake because Gina friend zoned me."

"And I'm a sadist because I don't like My Little Ponies."

Prophet was silent for a few moments, carefully debating his next words. There were many things he could say in this situation, some of which would make Beth storm out, some would make her turn violent, some would make her laugh, and others would just get him a tidal wave of snark.

Beth took this as some sort of defeat, an admission she was correct, and took on a sympathetic look.

"Look, I'm sorry, I pushed it. I didn't realize you actually did care about her, beyond as a teammate or friend. If it makes you feel any better, I had a My Little Pony once. Her name was Lavender Lace. I took her to high school one day, when we were having childhood memories. The resident douchebag bully grabbed her and shoved her into my eye, then grabbed my chest and called me a flat fag midget who would never get laid. I never wore lavender or lace again," she slowly explained, voice wavering near the end of her story.

Her fellow profiler stared on in shock. He was absolutely not expecting this heartfelt confession of what was obviously a traumatic experience in her life, nor had he thought Beth, of all people, would ever be so clueless as to think he was interested in the blonde member of their team.

"That's rough, man. Real rough. But you got over it. You're here now, successful, on a team, hanging with the real A-Team. Even if you don't think it was very funny, or if you don't think we're very funny. You've got us anyway," he finally managed to slowly say, still thrown off that the ever-secretive and reclusive Beth would tell him something like that out of the blue.

"Thanks," she sniffled out, and Prophet uneasily shifted in his chair. If she started to cry _he_ was out of there. There was no telling how Beth would react if he tried to physically comfort her and she likely didn't want him to sit there and talk at her to make her feel better. Perhaps a bro hug from the side would be sufficient.

Fortunately for him, the brunette snapped out of it, and smiling pitiably, she attempted a slight subject change, "So, if Mick wasn't around, would you have gone for Gina?"

"Man you have it _all wrong_. She's a nice girl. But not my kind of girl. I'm not into her, and no, not in any sense. I'm not interested in her, she's pretty but not the sort of pretty that The Prophet prefers."

"…Oh my God, I'm so sorry. You're gay, I feel horrible…" she began, looking quite mortified, before an exasperated look from the man across from her shut her up.

"Not like that. I like women. Just not Gina. Mick has her all to himself. If he wants to drool on her shoulder as he not so subtly stares down her shirt I'll hand him a towel. But that's as far as I go."

Cooper chose that moment to walk in through the door and enter the conversation.

"Hey, team, shift's over. Mick's gonna have to drool on her without you two listening in," he grinned slightly, waving to indicate they should follow him out.

Beth happily jumped up and grabbed her bag, already packed, and hurried out. Prophet, not as quick on the draw, called after her that she still profiled like a fugitive, leaving before everyone else, always ready to depart instantly.

What she yelled back was apparently not suitable for an FBI agent to state in a police office.

* * *

><p>A pile of dead leaves flew forward, kicked by a heavy boot. A man stomped within a confined circle in the jungle behind the hotel, slightly hunched over as though he was on the prowl.<p>

He'd had his sights on a couple from Texas, but then these new idiots, these sick, twisted, spineless freaks had shown up.

It was disgusting. All she wanted was his money and all he wanted was sex, sex and more sex.

Byron Styers saw the way the Brit looked at his girlfriend. He watched the Brit touch her and force her to react, despite how uncomfortable she was every time his hands were on her. It made him ill, to know such vile people existed. Men who used their money to force themselves on a woman.

Then, of course, the girlfriend was just as bad. She was obviously in love with his money, but she was insane. Every time another woman showed interest in her cash cow, she'd tear at their hair and cause a giant scene. In public! How humiliating. It wasn't as though she even _deserved_ to be wealthy. She screwed a rich man and got to wear nice clothes and live in a nice neighborhood.

Pathetic.

She looked like just his fiancée had. Before she got breast implants and a nose job, that is. He'd been engaged once. But he hadn't been a con artist so he hadn't been wealthy.

That didn't sit well with the love of his life, who took off the moment an older millionaire started feeling her up in a bar. At her _bachelorette party_. It was in celebration of their upcoming marriage and he started rubbing his hands across her. And she'd _let him_.

It was sick what people did for money. How they just left decent men for some scumbag with bank accounts in Switzerland and the Caribbean.

They all deserved to be sliced into pieces and fed to pigs. Pigs like the men who bought a girl a necklace in exchange for screwing her.

Byron only wished there were more of him. They'd kill faster.

* * *

><p>Mick smiled as the woman across from him sat down at their dinner table, in the most expensive of the resort's restaurants.<p>

"Is the FBI paying for this or did you finally decide to fork over your own money?" she leaned over to whisper once the waiter had left to retrieve their wine.

"We're still undercover, as such, we're still on the FBI's budget. Keeping up appearances," he replied, winking and holding up the credit card the FBI had given them, which surely must have been near the maximum limit by this point in the mission.

"It's going to be hard for you to return to the normal world. No more lounging around all day with beautiful, rich people and spending the government's money," Gina teased, gracefully reaching up to accept her glass from the waiter.

"I'll still have you to stare at all day. We'll make normalcy work," he confidently stated, giving her his most charming smile, to which she giggled softly, as he knew she would.

"Yeah, until the FBI finds out about us and deports you," she scoffed, knowing it was highly unlikely Cooper would ever let one of his long-time friends be kicked off the team.

"There's ways around that. Have Coop talk Fickler down, you could transfer to Interpol to be with me, I could become a citizen," he coolly stated.

"How exactly would you become a citizen before the United States government deported you?"

"Oh, I don't know, I could marry a citizen, if the situation required it."

He said it so smoothly, as if it wasn't a significant deal to marry someone in a crunch, that she almost missed the hint.

"Are you suggesting something?" she finally asked, after carefully pondering what he'd said.

"Not for another year or two," he winked.

* * *

><p>Prophet and Beth sat in a bar, looking incredibly bored, with Beth's phone lying on the table between them.<p>

Penelope was on the line, listening to the microphone embedded in Gina's dress.

"Now they're talking about how he should propose after they've dated for a while. Apparently they disagree on the method: Mick thinks bungee jumping out of a plane is entirely romantic enough but, of course, the girl demands something more traditional and significant to their relationship," Penelope explained after a few minutes of silence on the phone while she paid attention to the microphone's transmissions.

"Bungee jumping? Out a _plane_? What a moron. Sounds like a sure-fire way to get yourself killed before you can put a ring on it," Beth rolled her eyes, taking another long drink from her beer.

Prophet grabbed it from her the moment she set it back down, "You've already had three. And you're a little man. Take it easy."

"Give me back my beer. If I'm going to have to learn how these two horndogs intend to spend the rest of their lives together I don't want to remember it tomorrow," she growled, narrowing her eyes and preparing to lunge at him.

"I don't think they're seriously discussing their distant futures. Mick's more concerned with convincing Gina she should wear Gucci lingerie tonight. Oh, if only Kevin was a rich idiot," Penelope sighed, contemplating how even more glamorous her life could be in such an instance.

"This is such a waste of air," Beth scowled, finally succeeding in reclaiming her beer and taking another long drink. When she tried to put the bottle down it tipped over. Seconds later she finally reacted to the spill.

"You need to go pass out, man. You're done. Cut off," Prophet firmly stated, taking the bottle and throwing it away before Beth could try and drink what was left.

"If you call me 'man' one more time I'll castrate you with a broken bottle shard," she warned dangerously.

"Princess I am most definitely a she, but even I can feel the pain that would ensue. Where do you come up with these threats?" Penelope remarked.

"I told you, she's a pony-hating sadist. She probably killed a man for looking at her the wrong way and ever since she's been on the run," Prophet answered, dodging a poorly-aimed swing from Beth, who failed to complete the punch and simply slumped onto the table.

"You suck," the brunette woman groaned, allowing him to lead her to the hotel's elevator, Penelope chuckling over the phone all the while.

* * *

><p>As always, I will cherish your reviews, and thank you for reading! Give me some feedback if you could.<p> 


	9. In Which CBS' EggSucking Leads to Delay

Aaaaaand after much delay, we're back! After finals I was just sort of on a different creative track so it was hard to get motivation for this. Next chapter will be longer I promise.

**Disclaimer**: still not mine. cbs still blows mouldy fruit.

Reviews are loved as always.. next chapter will pick up with the action but it won't be the last, and even once this story ends there will be more, rest assured! Thanks for reading, and thanks to all my readers for hopefully sticking with me despite my failing to update in any decent sort of timeframe.

The only good thing about the show being canceled is the writers can't muck it up like what always happens with CBS shows...

* * *

><p>The sun shone in once again through the profilers' hotel window, streaking rays of light bouncing off Gina's eyelids and pulling her out of her dream. Her eyes fluttered open, staring straight into those of the man next to her in bed.<p>

"You're a very peaceful sleeper. Tranquil; your movements are soft and you don't twitch," he remarked, smiling softly as he reached a hand out to stroke her cheek.

"How long have you been awake to notice all that?" she giggled, nuzzling into his hand as he pulled closer.

"Half an hour or so. Prophet texted to say they still hadn't identified anyone," Mick replied, scowling slightly as his eyes glanced over his shoulder at the now-silenced phone.

"What is he doing up so early?"

"Something about Beth hung over pounding at his door that the birds were too loud."

"Hung over? Sounds like they had a wild night."

"Well she was outside his room so sounds like it was pretty boring. Certainly not as fun as waiting for a serial killer to slice me up with you, love."

"How sweet."

He smiled again, pushing up off the bed to call room service and order breakfast. By this point in the week he could easily list off what they'd both want to eat. Mick turned back to her after he'd hung up, reclining again as he waited.

"Do you think we have the wrong hotel? Maybe he's not here and that guy who watches us is merely a voyeur. Even if he is the unsub he's probably caught on we're not actually rich by now, with everything that's gone on," he asked after a few minutes of silence, a frown taking up residence on his face.

"I'm pretty sure he's the unsub. He'll come for us. You want this vacation to end? Not enjoying my company?" she gasped dramatically, feigning being hurt.

"Oh of course I _love_ spending all day with you, relaxing and acting like I don't have a care in the world, doll, but you know me. I like action. It gets dull sitting around wasting FBI money, even in such darling company," he grinned, winking suavely before rising to answer the door and get their breakfast.

* * *

><p>Sam Cooper smiled at his two agents, stumbling in through the police department's door. Beth flipped him off, eliciting a slightly shocked chuckle from Prophet, who told her that was likely why she kept getting kicked off teams.<p>

The one fingered salute was promptly redirected.

"Hey team, just talked to P, no news. Fickler is about to send some more undercover operations to other hotels if something doesn't happen today. No guarantees Mick and Gina are at the right one if he hasn't struck yet. You two up for it?" Cooper explained, a smug look on his face.

"Nope," Beth curtly replied, with a blatantly uninterested expression.

"Where's your sense of rich people adventure, man?" Prophet retorted, still smirking at the sassy brunette.

"The same place my lunch is – the hotel toilet," she deadpanned, pausing a moment to tack on a second thought, "Or maybe the balcony. It's a blur."

"Room service must love you," he tossed back.

"Yeah, like gay prostitutes love you."

"Hey, man, that was _one_ case!"

"But it was a whole street full of scantily clad men begging for a good time with 'The Prophet'."

"Can't help it, man, everyone digs me. They totally ignored Mick, though."

"Probably because Gina was so close to him it looked like they were dry humping."

"Alright, alright. So if this case doesn't wrap up by tomorrow morning, you two are heading out. Got it?" Coop interjected, still smiling but wanting to put his last thought in before discussing who else could be sent with the lead detectives. The duo nodded their heads reluctantly.

"Worst faycation ever," Beth muttered once Cooper had walked out of hearing range.

Prophet just laughed.

* * *

><p>"And how, exactly, does lying on the beach for hours further the mission?" Gina asked, turning slightly onto her side to muffle her voice better.<p>

"Gets us visible. Puts us out in the open. The unsub sees us lounging about carelessly, wasting valuable hours doing nothing, gets mad, and attacks. Aren't I clever?" Mick grinned in reply, shifting slightly to better blankly stare into the sky and do nothing.

"Brilliant. That's why you waste FBI funds so well," she smirked back, reaching out to pinch his cheek.

"Please, as if you mind, love," he winked, trailing his left hand through the space between them and onto her torso. One finger, then two, crept beneath the bottom of her string bikini top, moving farther up as she jolted slightly in response.

Just as his fingers wrapped around her hardening nipple, a loud cry of greeting rang from behind them.

"Gina! What are _you_ doing here?" a feminine voice that sounded oddly similar to the profiler's, only much shriller, called.

Both agents froze before slowly turning to look. Gina's mouth dropped open at the sight of her younger sister, standing next to a suave-looking man with his arm wrapped around her waist, caressing her hip.

"Cassidy! What… why?" the older blonde stuttered, scrambling to stand up but experiencing a bit of awkward untangling as Mick sheepishly retracted his hand from her bikini.

"My _fabulously hot new boyfriend_ offered to bring me! This resort is _all the rage_," her sister giggled, twisting her light blonde hair girlishly around her finger and pressing against the Arabic male she was with.

"Oh, how nice. Uh, Mick, this is my sister Cassidy, and Cassidy, this is my… boyfriend, Mick," Gina spat out, stumbling a bit over her words as the Brit finally stood up.

"A pleasure," Cassidy smiled, but there was no interest in her voice and it dripped of venom, "This is my _wonderful_ man, Ali."

The two men shook hands for appearances, but the action resembled a flopping, wet noodle more so than a respectable shake.

Gina took the opportunity to lean in and whisper to her sister that they were undercover on a mission to find a serial killer, thus it was vital not to reveal their last names or that the duo were FBI.

"So he's not rich, of course, you _could_ marry well and stop putting your life at risk for nothing but you just _have_ to ruin it with a man who'll never make the kind of money mine does," Cassidy huffed disdainfully, almost sympathetic for her 'silly older sister'.

"_You_ are the one who cares about how much money some idiot has and _you_ are the one who was in therapy all through school for your chronic bad relationships. How many freaky things do you have to do to keep him around, huh, if _I_ am the pretty one?" Gina hissed back, grabbing her sister's arm in a tight grip.

"Whatever. Daddy knows you're jealous of my success and that's all that matters," the younger LaSalle sniffed, turning to walk away with Ali, but Gina cut her off with one last remark.

"And we don't do it for _nothing_. We do it for the victims of rapes and the families of murders, so nobody else loses their life. You would be _nothing_ if there weren't people finding criminals for you to sit around and judge. Have a nice vacation before he dumps you for someone with bigger tits."

Gina grabbed the blanket she and the Brit had been lying on, looped her arm forcefully through his, and gracefully dragged him away, head held high, as her sister glared daggers.

Once they were a considerable distance down the beach, Gina dropped the blanket and flopped down with a loud sigh.

"Sibling rivalry?" the Brit asked to get her talking, sitting down next to her to rub her arms comfortingly.

"You have no idea."

"Can't say I do. My sister and I got along great. Most of the time. We had some spats, but we always stuck together. Us against the world, you know?"

"Not really. Cassidy was raised to be a brat. It was me against my family, but I turned out alright."

"'Alright' is an understatement, love."

"Thanks," the blonde sighed, smiling weakly. She paused to stare out at the sea, as if in a trance, pupils slowly tracking the waves in and out, before speaking again, "She's going to call my parents. I don't know what she'll say… I'm screwing a coworker or as usual I'm not with a notable man like her. No millions, not an heir, doesn't own a company, blah, blah, blah. She'll find something new to complain about."

"Do you really care? Your father can't touch our team, he doesn't have the influence over Fickler. If you really wanted to be what your father wanted you never would've applied to the academy."

"Well, no, but I'd prefer if she didn't give them yet another thing to criticize me about. They force me into family events and they all end up the same – Cassidy's so much better than me."

"She's better at being a dumb broad, I'll give her that. But her face is a trainwreck, what a turnoff. Guy must be blind. Maybe he's got a foot fetish, she looked alright in those heels. If I'm trying to say something nice."

"They were knockoffs. You bought me an almost identical pair but hers didn't have the right sole."

"Dumb broad."

* * *

><p>As night slowly draped its shadow over the hotel, leaving it shrouded in darkness, a window was forced open from the outside. A bathroom window, inconspicuous and hidden from easy view by guards by a hibiscus.<p>

The occupants of the room had vacated the bathroom several minutes earlier, retreating for the night to their bedroom.

Now was his time to strike.

* * *

><p>Oof, some action! Some danger! But is he at the right room? And is it the unsub? Review to find out. Thanks for reading and sorry for the huge delay.<p> 


	10. In Which The Unsub Strikes

Finally! fanfiction wouldn't let me upload any documents yesterday even though I had this done. Nusiance alert. Anyway, this is the second to last chapter, but never fear! I already have the idea for another chaptered fic, though it's not the sequel to this by any means. It'll be just as funny (I hope) but also a bit more serious and dramatic. So stay tuned for that!

**Disclaimer: **don't own CBS, don't own the show, will own the DVD when it's released.

Thanks to all my great readers as always for reading! And thanks to everyone who has reviewed, your thoughts on the story are always appreciated and taken into consideration. Hope I've addressed the question as to whether Prophet and Beth know how serious things are with this chapter.

* * *

><p>"Mick?" Gina whispered against the Brit's chest, pausing from running her tongue up his abdomen.<p>

"Yes doll?"

"Did you hear something? Like a window being cracked open?"

"No, but, I wasn't really hearing anything until you stopped," he admitted, shifting to look at the now-closed bathroom door. Moments later, after a slight creak on the floor, he smiled, before leaning down to quietly inform her it appeared they had a visitor.

"Finally. I'll pretend to be asleep, you act bored. Once we confirm it's our unsub, we'll give the signal. Coop and the team should be here within twenty minutes. We'll be… compliant to give them time," she explained, careful to remain hushed so the unsub couldn't overhear.

"Got it," he confirmed, reaching to pick up a rich person magazine off the nightstand as she rolled over and closed her eyes.

Several minutes later, the bathroom door slowly cracked open. Mick watched it over the top of the magazine, careful to keep his eyes seemingly on the article in case the unsub could see. Gina had slowed her breathing to appear unconscious, and she was still.

Mick waited, knowing there was quite clearly someone on the other side of the door, but the unsub's patience in making his move was almost maddening, even for a trained sniper like himself.

His jolt when the door finally flung open, and a man clad in all black wearing a ski mask stormed in, was quite real. He'd been preparing himself for the unsub's entry but after such a wait it had startled him.

"Don't move. Don't make. A MOVE. Stay where you are, don't try to call or I'll kill you. Don't scream or you're dead," the unsub yelled, his hoarse voice muffled but still quite loud.

Gina pretended to suddenly wake up, surprised and confused, while Mick dropped the magazine and raised his hands slowly.

"Don't… don't stab. We're not gonna do anything, t-take it easy," the Brit stuttered, pretending to be afraid, noting that the unsub was holding a large kitchen knife and had a small bulge on his left leg, high enough up it was likely the handle of a second knife. He didn't seem to be carrying any guns but his grip on the knife showed he was quite competent with the blade, confirmed by the skillful but angry cuts in the previous victims.

Mick gauged the man's age and fitness. If he did lunge to stab before their team and the police arrived, the unsub was old enough that he'd likely be too slow to avoid the sniper's counterattack. It would be easy enough to disarm the man at first glance, though he'd prefer if Cooper, Prophet and Beth came storming in with their guns. Getting into a physical confrontation with the killer meant he'd be close enough to potentially hurt Gina, if he hadn't been aiming for her in the first place.

She could probably defend herself adequately but he didn't want any risky chances taken that could rip his beautiful coworker out of his life.

Gina pouted, trembling her lip to look scared. The unsub focused on her more so than Mick, which would give the agent an advantage if he had to strike.

The killer's gaze then landed on Mick, and his eyes narrowed behind the mask.

"Show her just how worthless you are. You'll never be able to satisfy her like a man who actually loves her could. Fake, pretentious idiot. Move, NOW! Stick your head between her legs and just try and get her off," Byron snarled, waving the knife firmly to direct Mick.

The Brit slowly moved, making eye contact with Gina to let her know to fake dissatisfaction. Once he'd moved into the position the unsub wanted, he yelled again.

"No! Take her clothes off, show for everyone you're nothing without your money!" he growled, stepping closer with the knife.

"P-please, w-why are you d-doing this?" Gina cried, forcing her eyes to water, and also giving the signal to confirm to the team the unsub had approached them. She felt it was likely if they were listening they had already mobilized, but she wanted to confirm.

"Because _sluts_ like you treat love like it's _nothing_! Absolutely nothing compared to money! But you know what, dumb whore, those millions you're choking out of him are what's really worth _nothing_!" Byron yelled back, narrowing his eyes and smiling slightly as Mick tossed the last of her clothing onto the floor.

He lowered his head once again and pretended to move. He knew the unsub couldn't actually see whether his tongue was doing anything or not and he'd prefer to not actually pleasure his partner in the current circumstance.

To her credit, she faked being bored and terrified well, crocodile tears slowly trickling down her face as she groaned in dissatisfaction every so often. The unsub was laughing to himself, ranting about how right he was, about how his fiancée was like every other classless slut.

It was difficult for Mick to see, stuck in a rather interesting form of tunnel vision at the moment, but he could hear from the floorboards the unsub was pacing, fairly rapidly, perhaps even stalking back and forth across the room. His turns were abrupt and noticeable, leading the Brit to believe the unsub was controlled with a knife but not emotionally.

He hoped the team would arrive soon, situated as he was it'd be difficult to adequately counterattack if the unsub decided to lunge, and he didn't want Gina to get injured when he finally chose to strike.

Byron continued laughing, chuckling to himself about how bad Mick was, asking Gina if this was really fun for her. She simply sobbed loudly every time he directed a question at her, trembling something fierce, and not from pleasure.

Mick briefly wondered if this was actually bothering her, as her reaction to the unsub seemed eerily real. He made a mental note while listening for irregularities in the unsub's pacing to ask her later if she was alright.

Then Prophet kicked the door in.

Gina quickly pulled the covers up to her neck, but not before Beth's eagle eyes scanning the room had gotten a very clear view of Mick eating the blonde out, or pretending to.

Prophet rushed forward, stopping a few feet from the unsub as Beth moved to the other side of him.

Cooper followed them in, calmer, telling the unsub to drop the knife. Mick called out, voice muffled by the covers, he had a knife at his left ankle as well.

"Just shoot me. Shoot me! SHOOT ME! I loved her and she _left me_, plant a bullet in my head and end this. She left me… she LEFT ME," Byron screamed, tears beginning to fall from his own eyes.

As he reached up to wipe them, his grip on the knife loosened, enough so Cooper could rush forward, tear the knife away, and twist around him while Prophet quickly followed, cuffing Byron before he could reach for the second knife.

"She left you because you're a psycho killer passing judgment on other peoples' choices and lives. Big surprise," Beth scathingly informed the man as Cooper escorted him out with the police officers. Byron didn't reply, trapped in his own mind and crying.

The two clothed and standing agents quickly turned to the undercover profilers, Mick finally emerging from under the sheets.

"Just get out," the Brit commanded, eying his coworkers who looked ready to burst out laughing any second.

"You might wanna step up your game, _man_, she looked pretty bored," Prophet chuckled, a snort from Beth confirming his statement.

"I was intentionally not doing anything, you moron. He'd have suspected something if I had her crying for more in minutes," Mick scowled, folding his arms over the covers.

"Yep. Sure. We gotcha. You keep thinking that," Beth smirked, resulting in a pillow being launched at her head. The fluffy decorator pillow connected with her face and she staggered back, Prophet laughing loudly at her.

Once she'd stopped spluttering, she and Prophet looked at the bed, only to see Gina pointing towards the door, now hanging off its hinges.

"Okay, okay, we're getting out of here," Beth threw her hands up in defeat, not wanting to take another pillow to the face.

"We'll uh, send the manager by to give you guys a new room. Seems like you're not quite done with the evening," Prophet grinned, raising his eyebrows as he dodged another flying pillow.

"Jagoffs," Mick yelled after them, stirring a small bit of laughter from the retreating agents making their way down the hall.

Prophet and Beth followed the trail of police, nodding to the two that remained behind to survey the hotel for a partner Byron may have had, however unlikely it was according to their profile. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"Can you believe they're serious?" Prophet finally said, turning slightly to the shorter brunette, hints of amusement and bewilderment leaking into his voice.

"No, _man_, I can't. I mean, who would _ever_ think that a British playboy who flirts with everything that's blonde, legal and has the proper amount of holes would manage to seduce his pretty, blonde coworker with daddy issues? It's not like this is a by-the-book mutually benefiting relationship or anything," she retorted, rolling her eyes at his disbelief.

Beth kicked at an empty bottle of champagne lying in the hallway, sending it spinning down the corridor as they walked, Prophet running up to hit it with the side of his foot when they'd caught up to the bottle.

"I dunno, I just didn't think he'd settle down, get into a serious relationship, y'know? Her standards are too high to have a one night stand, with him, and if it was just for the mission they'd have followed us out," he commented after some thought, glancing at the elaborate wall decorations.

"She must have him on some leash."

"You heard him go on and on about those shoes he bought her. She puts them on and he's foaming at the mouth."

"If it works, it works, just keep me far away from their little love nest."

"I'll be sure to tell them you're just dying to walk in on them doing work in the middle of the gym."

"Do it and you'll find out just exactly why I profile like a fugitive."

Prophet shrugged in defeat and smiled.


	11. In Which Things Conclude Quite Nicely

Aww guys this is sad, the final chapter. I want to thank all of you loyal readers and reviewers for sticking with me and I hope you've all enjoyed Suspect Covers. And I want to give a big SCREW YOU to CBS for canceling the show.

I have the first chapter of my next story done so look for that in the next few days! It will be Mick/Gina as always but not the sequel to this story. You may want to look forward to a sequel sometime though (;

**Disclaimer**: if only it was mine...

I would love your final thoughts on the story, please leave a review if you could! Thank you for reading everyone.

* * *

><p>One of the hotel managers had soon rushed over to Mick and Gina's room with a new key, graciously thanking them for luring the killer and saving the resort's reputation as a safe place for rich people. A crowd of guests had gathered due to the noise, looking at the broken door in awe.<p>

Ruby and Chantal stood in awe, in front of their men for the night, on the opposite side of the hall from Margie and the Australian man she had been with in the pool.

As the two profilers finished packing their bags and wheeled their suitcases out, moving to their new room for the night, Margie huffed venomously.

"I _knew_ you two were posers. She's too _ugly_ to be a gold digger like me," she spat, rolling her eyes.

"How about you shut up, skank? You tried to steal her boyfriend and he ain't even rich!" Chantal retorted, snapping her fingers sassily.

"Girl you don't even have real hair! You sleep with morons, not smart FBI agents like she does," Ruby laughed, joined by several of the hallway's inhabitants as Margie fumed.

"What EVER, you guys are total squares. Come back when you're fetch as me… or when you can afford it!" Margie smirked, taking the Australian by the arm and leading him off.

Chantal shouted a fair few profanities after her, eliciting another round of laughter from the crowd.

"So you guys work for the FBI? That's so cool! You're like smart and stuff, and you help victims," Ruby gushed, walking alongside Gina as she and Mick approached their new room.

"Yeah, we're profilers. We hunt serial killers, like the guy we just apprehended. It's heavy work but pretty rewarding," Gina smiled, Mick nodding behind her.

"Are you two really together then? Cause, I mean, if you're not, there's plenty of girls who would wanna get with that hot Brit, whether he's loaded or not," Chantal asked, shrugging casually as the group reached the door.

Mick and Gina shared a look before the Brit turned back to the other women, "Sorry love, I'm off the market."

Both girls' expressions dropped, but as their boyfriends caught up to them, they walked off as the profilers' door closed.

"How does it feel to be so popular with the ladies?" the blonde grinned apprehensively, wondering how he was reacting to so many girls still interested in him, regardless of his wealth.

"They only want me cause I look pretty. It's like being at a bar dedicated to finding one night stands. Not that I've been to many of those…" he quickly covered, rather awkwardly looking away at an apparently fascinating spot of wallpaper.

"Of course. This is our last night at the hotel, sadly. We'd better make the most of it," she winked, sauntering to the neatly made bed and gracefully plopping down, waiting for him to join her. When he didn't immediately rush over, but stood by their suitcases, she blinked questioningly. He finally walked over but sat down a foot from her.

"Forgive me, love, if I spoil the mood, but I'd like to know," he began, pausing to gauge her reaction. When she nodded to encourage him, Mick continued, "When he forced me to, er, eat you out, your reaction seemed very… real."

"We've all done things we're not proud of. That's it," she cut him off, blurting the explanation out rather quickly. He took the hint she wasn't ready to say much more on the subject, and sighed as she tensed up, quite obviously no longer in the mood.

Mick stood once again and walked back to his suitcase, opening it and shuffling around the designer clothes he'd likely have to return for one of the few things he'd bought with his own money. Finding the light blue box, he smiled triumphantly and returned to the bed, this time sitting with his leg pressed against hers, though he was fairly certain she'd shifted away.

"This is for you. I purchased it myself, not with FBI funds, so you'd bloody better like it," he grinned, giving her his most charming smile as he presented the box.

Her first thought was it was an engagement ring, as it was obviously from Tiffany's. But the box was too flat and wide, all the wrong proportions to be a proper engagement ring box. Not that her parents had ever bothered to buy her many pieces of fine jewelry, no, her sister got all those, but it looked more like a necklace box to her.

Shock must've been obvious on her face, because he smirked and told her no, he wasn't proposing… yet.

She gently took the box from him and opened it, looking to see a large but delicate platinum heart in the typical Tiffany's style.

"No…" she gasped, shoving the box back at him. His face dropped instantly.

"What do you bloody mean 'no'? You don't like it? You bloody better like it…" he scowled, fingers locking around the box in a menacing grasp.

"Oh, I love it, but, I mean, it's _platinum_. And it's not one of the tiny hearts. It's the best necklace anyone's ever given me but it just seems like a lot…" she spluttered, reaching for the box once again, but he wasn't letting it go so easily this time.

"Can I not spend a couple thousand on you without you trying to give it back?" Mick huffed, finally releasing the box to her once again.

"I'll be more grateful next time," she winked, smiling at him as he finally settled back down, "Though you obviously bought this before we even left. How did you know I'd agree to anything with you?"

Sheepishly, "I didn't. This was my last resort."

"Oh Mick," Gina sighed, leaning in to kiss him as she gently pulled the necklace from its hold in the box to put around her neck.

His hands took it from hers and wrapped around her to clasp the necklace shut, remaining on the back of her neck to pull her closer to him.

* * *

><p>Mick had fallen asleep an hour or so before, collapsing onto her before reluctantly climbing off and retreating to his own half of the bed to rest, but Gina found herself unable to drift off.<p>

She was fairly certain it wasn't because she was overly upset or nervous to be leaving the resort. It had been nice, but she'd always lived a fast-paced life and lounging around aimlessly so much was odd. Sure, it meant less time with the Brit, but they'd still see each other almost every day and night. Just not for almost every minute of the day.

Maybe it was the thrill of him stating his intent to propose was in the distant future, but real nonetheless. The 'yet' he had tacked on with a wink and million dollar smile made her happy thinking about it, and she smiled to herself in the darkness.

The new necklace around her neck dangled slightly above her skin, held up by her right hand as she toyed with it. Having not worn her usual necklace, given to her by her grandmother, it was possible the returned weight was just taking a bit of getting used to.

But she knew the most likely explanation for why she couldn't sleep was Mick's question. Or implied question, at the least. She'd cut him off before he could really ask anything. Someday she'd have to tell him the truth, what she'd done after the worst fights with her family, specifically with her father. What his words had driven her younger self to do. And he'd likely understand, but there were things he hadn't told her yet and those things could all wait.

She turned her head, still fiddling with the Tiffany's pendant, to look at him. Watching him as he slept, peacefully unconscious and very softly snoring, comforted her a fair bit, and her eyelids drooped down.

"Do you want me to hold you?"

Gina screamed, jolting back, as Mick rolled over sleepily.

"It's just me, love. No need to get all worked up," he chuckled, eyes still half closed as his left side plopped onto the mattress, now facing the blonde.

"I thought you were asleep," she blurted, and he gave her a tired 'no kidding' look.

"I was, but I can always tell when someone's watching me. It wakes me up. Prolly a sniper thing," Mick explained, yawning loudly to let her know he intended to go back to sleep as soon as possible.

She mouthed 'oh', not sure if he could read her lips in the dark, but when he smiled softly and lifted an arm, she nodded and he draped it over her, pulling himself closer. With her body firmly nestled against the Brit's, Gina quickly fell asleep herself, breathing soon synchronizing to match his.

* * *

><p>Mick and Gina strolled into the police department, once again wearing matching Chanel floral shirts and white jeans.<p>

Beth groaned and buried her head in her hands while Prophet smirked.

"Hey Coop, feel free to send me and Gina on any future undercover missions," the Brit called out, waving to the black man as he joined them in the room.

"Changing your mind about going undercover, huh man?" Prophet laughed, leaning back against the desk in the center of the office.

"Only if he's got a pretty blonde with him," Gina winked, nudging her partner in the ribs playfully.

"A specific pretty blonde," Mick added, eliciting another laugh from Prophet.

"You two really make me sick, you know that? One week in a resort for mindless rich people and your brains melt," Beth grumbled, turning to finish packing her bag so they could leave.

"There you go again, always packed and ready to be the first one out. If I have Penelope look up your file what's she gonna find, eh?" he asked, glaring at the shorter brunette while Prophet and Gina laughed again.

"Your dead body, that's what she'll find."

Even Cooper joined in on the chuckling that time, before telling the team it was time to head home. Beth was off like a rocket, speeding to the police station's door but maintaining a walk so she didn't look overly eager to be free.

Prophet and Mick wasted no time quickly catching up to Beth to taunt her more, rubbing her head and daring her to bring out her secret weapon. Gina just giggled from Mick's left, pressed against his side as he kept his left arm firmly wrapped around her.

Coop followed them out, smiling at his team.


End file.
